


Burn It Down

by God_of_Insanity



Series: Dark Hearts: Of Men & Monsters [4]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Bottom Sephiroth, Boy/Girl Friendship, Death, Eventual Smut, Father/Son Incest, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loneliness, M/M, Magic, Male Slash, Masamune is a Magic Sword, No Guns, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Relationship to Eventual Romantic/Sexual Relationship, References to past deaths, Sephiroth Has An Inner Captain Levi Ackerman, Sephiroth POV, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Vincent Is A Filthy Dirty Man, Violence, Yaoi, implied loss of virginity, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:49:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/God_of_Insanity/pseuds/God_of_Insanity
Summary: Taken away from his prison at 15-years-old, by a strange man claiming to be his real father, Sephiroth is granted the chance at a real life and to know what it is to be truly loved.





	1. Homecoming

 

“You will stay inside at night, _every_ night, unless you are accompanied by me. It is vital to your safety and overall well-being that you follow this rule because it is not safe for you outside at night. I go out most nights, but…if you need to call on me, use this,” explained the crimson-eyed man, the one that had introduced himself as merely Vincent. He next handed the youth called Sephiroth, what looked like an old, tarnished silver amulet with red gems for the eyes of the three-headed, fearsome looking beast etched into the metal. Once it was in the younger male’s hand, he continued, “Just touch it with your hand and say my name, and I will appear as quickly as I can. Only use it for emergencies, Sephiroth. I cannot stress this enough.”

Staring down at the amulet in his hand, the silver-haired boy felt awfully numb. He didn’t know what to feel or even what to think since this had all happened too fast. Before today, he had been kept in a dungeon ever since he could remember. He hadn’t been allowed to leave his dungeon cell unless granted permission or otherwise accompanied by an adult. Though he hadn’t been as neglected or as abused as the _others_ , just mostly subjected to many tests, some painful or uncomfortable sometimes, he hadn’t been loved, either. Like in that dungeon, he had been left alone to amuse himself with books and sword practice, and now, now it seemed the same thing would be happening to him all over again, in a sense. Like the first fifteen years of his life, he had spent his days with someone doing something specific while at night he had been left to his own devices. Thinking of this made him realize that the strange, crimson-eyed man hadn’t stated what he’d be doing during the day. He hadn’t even said if he could leave during the day or not.

“What is expected of me during the day? Am I allowed to leave the house during the day?” Inquired the youth, tilting his head slightly to the side, which caused a handful of long, steel-colored hair to sway a bit. Although he had a myriad of questions buzzing around in his overwhelmed skull, he knew better than to ask them all at once. Hopefully this strange man would answer most of his questions… _eventually_ , at least.

“You can do as you like and yes…you may leave the house during the day. You will be safe…but I do ask that you don’t go anywhere past the borders of my property…though…you may stray into the village nearby, if you so choose. Just return _before_ nightfall,” answered the eccentric man. The way he spoke was slow and almost halting, as if he wasn’t used to speaking to people. Or maybe he just wasn’t used to giving such lengthy explanations. Either way, it was quite clear that he wasn’t a very social person.

He was allowed to leave during the day? That was a first. Sephiroth had been under the impression that he would be caged up again and chaperoned whenever he was allowed to leave like a woman in a male-dominated, oppressive country. That had been his life since birth, his first fifteen years of life, so he hadn’t expected to actually be given permission to roam almost freely. Almost because there were still some restrictions to where he could go, but still…the very notion that he could step out the door during the day and freely explore made him tremble a bit from barely contained excitement. Yet at the same time, it made him feel terribly anxious, like a young bird about to leave the nest for the first time, since he’d never done so before.

Of course, this could all be just a trick just to raise his hopes up cruelly before slashing them to pieces. Hojo had done something similar to him when he’d barely been seven-years-old. After that, he had learned not to trust people’s words because what they said often didn’t line up with their actions. The vindictive man had attempted to trick him again, but Sephiroth had learned quickly after the first time. He didn’t even trust Lucrecia although she wasn’t as spiteful as her husband; however, she still treated him like some animal in a pen. Her words were never comforting, lacked warmth actually, and her touches were clinical as if she were inspecting a beast to be slaughtered for its meat or sold to provide some sort of service. Still, he preferred her presence to Hojo’s because usually her examinations didn’t encourage pain to be experienced on his part. Although he never completely understood what they were attempting to achieve with him, he was smart enough to understand that he was important to them even though Hojo had often stated otherwise. They weren’t trying to break or kill him, but it was clear to him that they were trying to mold him into something specific.

Sephiroth was startled out of his thoughts when he felt large, long-fingered gloved hands grasping him by the shoulders. He looked up at the older man who was suddenly in front of him, looking down at him with an unreadable gaze. Although he was acutely aware that this man was in dire need of a good bath, and his clothes needed to be washed several times, his close presence made him feel paralyzed though he no longer felt numb inside. There was something there, something that had been planted inside him, but he didn’t understand just what it was. All he knew was that he felt like he could trust Vincent.

And when Vincent spoke again, he couldn’t help feeling actual comfort in those words despite how cold Vincent’s pale, impassive face appeared to him.

“This is your home now…not your prison. What those people did to you was unforgivable, and I will never allow anyone to harm you ever again. You are my son, Sephiroth…you are of my blood. Always remember that.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Restless and bored, Sephiroth spent the next hour or so exploring the house while Vincent was gone…doing whatever it was that he did during the night out. By the end of that hour, he found out that there was a master bedroom, a guest bedroom, a study, a kitchen, two bathrooms, an attic, and a basement. Strangely enough, none of these rooms were locked, but a gnawing feeling in his gut that was present in every room, made him leave a couple of them, like the master bedroom and the basement. Why, he didn’t know, but he’d avoid those places for now. Perhaps it was just the disturbing amount of filth that was getting to him, he supposed.

He’d realized that the place, while it had a lot of potential to be a nice place to live, was absolutely filthy like no one had lived there in years. Even his dungeon had been spotless and safe to live in. But this, this was absolutely unacceptable and it would have to be rectified. Thinking on it now, Vincent, his supposed blood father, matched the place. His clothes were filthy and so was the rest of him. The body odor also suggested that he hadn’t bathed in days, or _more_. This thought made Sephiroth shudder since he had been brought up to be a clean person, which meant he bathed at least once a day and kept his living quarters impeccably clean. He hadn’t always been this way as a child, but repeated strict _discipline_ had taught him to adopt such a habit even if the rest of the world wasn’t this way. Some of the few places, houses, and people he’d seen had been grimy, too, but not nearly as bad as this.

The first thing Sephiroth did was find some wooden buckets, reasonably clean, yet dusty rags, which he rinsed out with water, and shockingly he also found some bars of soap. The smallest bathroom he hit fist, filling it with water from the tub’s faucet. Fortunately, the bathrooms had a basic plumbing system which meant he wouldn’t have to trudge outside for well water. Not only that, but since it was nighttime, he wouldn’t have been able to go outside anyway. After both buckets were brimming full of clean water, he lifted them easily out of the tub and placed his hands in the water. He used a spell he had been taught to heat up the water enough so that cleaning would be easier and used another basic spell to enhance the soap so that it’d clean more efficiently. Once he soaked the rags in water, he lathered them in soap and then set to work scrubbing the sink and tub clean.

Working quickly and efficiently, it took him forty minutes to completely clean the bathroom, but once he was satisfied with his work, he took his supplies to the next bathroom, the Master bathroom, and repeated the process to get the entire bathroom clean. This task took him a little longer since the bathroom was larger, and when he was done, he was a sweating mess with strands of his hair sticking to his face and neck.

Taking a break to consume some water and rest for a few minutes, he pondered just how long this house would take to get sufficiently clean. It was regrettable that he hadn’t been taught better cleaning spells because if he had, it would have made his job easier to accomplish, but he was still determined. If he had to work all night and morning, he would get the place in tip top shape.

A few hours later, after finishing cleaning the kitchen, the guest bedroom, and the study, which were thankfully smaller than the Master bedroom, Sephiroth took another break and pondered what he would do next. Should he chance entering the Master bedchambers again?  While he was willing to leave the attic and basement for another day, it bothered him that Vincent’s bedroom was in such squalor. He’d seen the bed and the sheets were absolutely filthy. Whenever that man did get home, he would be sure to make him strip and _finally_ bathe whether he wanted to or not.

Deciding to get back to work again, Sephiroth picked up two clean buckets of steaming hot water and headed towards the Master bedroom. Once he entered the dark room, he once again felt that niggling feeling in his gut. For some reason, the uncomfortable feeling was most intense here, but he would ignore it for the time being. Gingerly putting the buckets down, he lit several of the candles before he scrutinized the entire room. His quick scan revealed a dusty dresser, a couple bedside tables that flanked the large four-poster bed, and a closet. The room wasn’t as bad as the rest of the house, but was still filthy as hell and made him cringe. He quickly left to return with a broom, dust pan, rags, and some soap. Setting these items down, he strode over to the bed and stared at the yellowed, stained bedsheets, which had probably been white at some point in time. Most of the stains were dark brown, looking suspiciously like dried blood. When he sniffed them, he jerked backwards in repulsion and almost fell flat on his ass, yet managed to correct his footing just in time.

They did indeed smell like blood, and terrible, ungodly body odor that made him want to vomit, but he didn’t because he’d have to clean that shit up. Wrinkling his nose, he stalked forward again and began ripping the dirty covers and sheets from the bed. Carrying them in a bundle away from his body in his outstretched arms, he quickly headed to the Master bedroom, which was separated by a door connected to the bedroom. The bathroom itself had two doors and the second led to the hallway, which meant the bathroom could be entered without having to go through the Master bedchambers. Dumping the sheets in the tub, he then filled up the clean tub with hot water and soap. He decided to let them soak in the bathtub while he worked on the room. He had done this earlier with the guest room and now the guest sheets were hanging to air dry for now although he’d used a simple spell to speed up the process a bit.

Sighing heavily, he strode back into the older man’s bedchambers to resume the arduous and tedious process of scrubbing, dusting, sweeping, and mopping it. If Vincent thought they would both live in filth for however long they were stuck with one another, that man was sorely mistaken.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Freshly cleaned and dressed by dawn, Sephiroth waited in a chair near the front door with his arms crossed. Although he was bone-tired from all the hard work, he was stubbornly determined to wait up for the one who was supposedly his father. The one that had arrived during the day without invitation, instructing him that he was leaving that place for good. He had been offered little explanation, but somehow, a part of him had trusted the strange man with the burning eyes.

Thinking on it now…why had he trusted him? Lucrecia had always told him people couldn’t be trusted, that men especially were sick, depraved deviants, with exception to Hojo, of course. She always made excuses for that man no matter what he did or said to anyone. It was sickening just how much she worshipped that man and no matter how many different ways he looked at it, he could never fathom why.

During his brief life, no one had ever told him who his mother had been or even if he had had a father. When asked, he was quickly told that they were both long since dead and that Lucrecia and Hojo had graciously taken him in out of the goodness of their hearts. He was told no one else could be trusted, that he was fortunate to have people like them taking care of him. She’d made him sound like some sort of charity case, like he was in dire need of their help.

He’d always suspected that to be a lie, all a bunch of twisted lies and that was pretty much confirmed for him when he met Vincent, the one claiming to be his real father. His supposedly deceased father who was very much alive. If his father was alive, what about his mother? Was she alive somewhere, too? Or had she died during childbirth? Or perhaps there was some truth to their words, after all. Whatever the truth was, he was certain to find out in time.

Sephiroth could never believe that in all the world, those two were the _only_ trustworthy ones. He wasn’t a fool and despite what they thought, he was very intelligent and observant. Any time he had been granted an escort to leave the dungeon, he’d noticed many things in the city all around him. People didn’t seem so bad and in fact, though most of them glanced or blatantly stared at him, they minded their own business for the most part. There was something more to the picture he suspected that he wasn’t seeing in all its entirely, yet. He wouldn’t know until he got to actually be out in the world, to experience everything he had been deprived of.

Just as he was beginning to nod off, his head suddenly jerked and he nearly toppled out of the chair when he felt a gloved hand on his face.

“Why are you still awake?” Questioned Vincent after staring at the youth for several long minutes. His crimson eyes, which almost appeared to be glowing, slowly scrutinized him, taking in every inch of his form as if searching for something out of place. “You should be in bed.”

“Surely, you _jest_ ,” snorted Sephiroth as he rose up from the chair to stretch his aching sore limbs. It was at that moment that he realized his work wasn’t completely done. He still had the attic and basement to tackle and from what he’d seen so far, both looked like a hellish nightmare of epic proportions. His glimpses of both places had given him the suspicion that no one had visited those dusty, cob-webbed areas in _years_. In fact, with exception to Vincent’s bedchambers, most of the house looked like it had been abandoned for years.

The older man appeared slightly puzzled as if he genuinely didn’t understand the situation at hand. “How do you mean?”

“I am accustomed to cleanliness,” answered Sephiroth as he eyed Vincent up and down disapprovingly as he noted just how filthy the older man’s worn, dark cloak, tunic, and breeches appeared to be. Even his boots looked like they could use a good scrubbing and polishing. It made his fingers twitch with the mounting impulse to disrobe his father and push him into the nearest bathtub. “Which means to sleep, I need somewhere relatively clean…so I was forced to clean your house. I know that’s not my job, but since you don’t have a wife or a servant, it needed to be done. So, I did it.”

“You cleaned my house,” echoed Vincent quietly, his grime smudged face impassive once more.

“Yes, I did. Washed your _bedsheets_ , too. I don’t know how you can live like _this_ , but it doesn’t matter anymore because this ends today,” declared Sephiroth as he crossed his arms while he stared up at the older man as if this was the only way.

“Oh really?” Challenged the raven-haired man, his head slightly cocked as if he didn’t believe his own ears.

Sephiroth nodded curtly. “Yes, really. In fact, do us both a favor and strip. I’ll prepare a bath for you while you do so.”

Vincent appeared taken aback by that, as if he couldn’t believe the audacity of the younger male. He stubbornly denied, “I don’t require a bath. I’m fine.”

“Tell that to my nose,” Sephiroth said as he wrinkled his nose in distaste. With the older man standing this close, which wasn’t even all that close, he was forced to hold his breath since the man smelled like Death or something akin to it. Though it killed him to do it, he moved in closer until there was barely a foot of distance between them. “If you want me to stay here, then I fully expect you to wear clean clothes and bathe at least once a day, every day.”

“ _Every_ single day?” Slowly questioned a baffled Vincent as if such a proposal was out of the ordinary.

Sephiroth was tempted to roll his eyes at that and couldn’t believe just how hard-headed this man was. Just what was so hard about practicing good hygiene? No wonder this man didn’t have a wife or some sort of companion. He sighed heavily, “Yes, every single day. If you want me to stay inside the house every single night, then I fully expect you to bathe every single day. You don’t have to wash your hair every single day, but maybe once or twice a week should suffice. Does that not sound fair?”

For several long minutes, Vincent just stared down at Sephiroth, his crimson orbs betrayed nothing. In the end, it was his long, suffering sigh of defeat that gave him away.  He muttered, “You truly are a precocious one, aren’t you.”

Sephiroth didn’t say anything, but he did smirk a little. Since he didn’t know Vincent, he hadn’t been certain what his reaction would be to his rather pushy demand. Yes, he was being a bit bossy, was probably stepping out of line since this wasn’t his house and he was still just a child, but he didn’t care. He had been taught that hygiene was important and was one of the things that kept people healthy. Just because his residence had quickly changed didn’t mean he was going to just drop what was important to him. As much as he despised Hojo and Lucrecia, he knew they had been right about pushing him to learn proper hygiene habits.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Half an hour later, Vincent emerged from his bathroom and appeared surprised to see Sephiroth waiting in his room with a simple clean tunic and breeches. The dirty clothes Vincent had left discarded on the floor was missing. Sephiroth had taken it upon himself to take the filthy cloak, tunic, and breeches to the other bathroom to soak and scrub it all. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Vincent didn’t appear to wear undergarments of any kind, either. In a way, he felt grateful for that. Sort of, anyway.

Sephiroth’s jaw nearly dropped at what emerged from the bathroom. Underneath all that grime, oil, and blood was a breathtakingly beautiful man that resembled Sephiroth enough to prove that he was indeed related to him. It was obvious to him that Vincent had put some effort into cleaning himself since several parts of himself was red from probably scrubbing his skin raw. His excessively long, dark, matted hair hung all around him, still dripping excess water down the expanse of his clean, pale white skin. It didn’t escape his notice that his unruly hair hadn’t been combed, though it looked clean and what was ever stranger still, Vincent was _still_ wearing his leather gloves. Had the man even bothered to take them off in the bath? Or had he slipped them on afterwards? Whatever the case, Sephiroth would ask about his glove thing later…if he remembered to, that was. Right now, the older man’s hair was a bigger problem in his mind. Sighing, the youth inquired, “You didn’t comb out your hair?”

“Why should I?” Asked Vincent as he slowly glanced around the room, still looking shocked by just how different his bedchambers looked now that it was clean.

Sephiroth wanted to roll his eyes again, but decided against it since Vincent hadn’t really fought him so far. He also had the sneaking suspicion that his father had been raised differently from how he’d been raised. If that was true, then it wasn’t his fault and Sephiroth would have to be patient while he attempted to teach him the correct way. “So it looks nice and presentable, of course.”

“I don’t really care about looking presentable,” mumbled the dark-haired man with a small shrug as he gingerly took the clean clothes offered to him. He didn’t seem to care that his own son was watching him as he began to dress and eventually removed the towel to slip on his pants.

“You don’t want a wife, or some lover? Women seem to care about looks,” said Sephiroth as he watched his father dress. He admittedly didn’t know much about women, sex, or any of that adult stuff, but he knew enough to know that being presentable was important to _both_ sexes.

“No, I do not,” answered Vincent simply as if that was the end of it.

“Well, maybe I want you to look presentable,” countered Sephiroth, unwilling to just drop it. He couldn’t understand what was so hard about combing hair. It was tedious, yet fairly easy if you groomed yourself daily. But obviously the older man didn’t feel the same way, which once again made him wonder about Vincent’s childhood.

Vincent said nothing, just stared at him with that damned, frustratingly unreadable gaze that Sephiroth was learning to associate him with. It seemed to be his default expression so far and he wondered if his father, like Sephiroth, had learned it for self-preservation. By the time he had been six or seven years of age, the youth had begun masking his emotions because of Hojo. He had quickly learned that the less he showed, the less pain he would be forced to deal with.

“All right, I’ll do it for you,” sighed Sephiroth before he exited the room and returned shortly with a wooden chair, a pair of scissors, and a comb. Setting the chair down, he motioned towards it for the older man to sit. Once Vincent slowly, yet stiffly sat down in the chair, he moved behind him with a towel and used it to blot his hair as much as possible. Then he begun gingerly combing out his knotted-up rat’s nest of hair until every dark strand was set free. It took a long time, but once he was finished combing it out, he then realized that the waist-length hair would have to be trimmed several inches more than he had originally figured, due to the damage done to the tangled hair from being combed and from not being properly maintained over a long period of time. Taking the scissors from his pocket, he did his best to cut it as evenly as possible and within several minutes, he had shorn enough hair to the point that it barely reached the middle of the man’s tapered back.

When Sephiroth was finished, he circled around the older man to double check his work. He felt relief buzz through him when Vincent looked less of an animal and more of a man. It caused him to smile slightly as he sighed with relief, “Much better.”

“Thank you,” quietly said Vincent, his gloved hands folded in his lap.

Whether Vincent had thanked him for the compliment or for taking care of his hair, or even both, Sephiroth didn’t know.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

_One Week Later_

True to his word, Vincent left each night and returned shortly before dawn. Sephiroth stayed up each night, waiting for him almost like a loyal dog awaiting its master until eventually, he’d trained himself to wake up just before dawn. He’d finished cleaning the entire house and all the clothes in it a few days ago and had nothing to do during the night except read the various books he had found stuffed in a chest up in the attic. Since he didn’t want to risk making a mess or damaging anything in the house, he decided against practicing with his sword. Some of the books were interesting enough; some were obviously for amusement while others seemed to be more for research. Some were in languages Sephiroth had never seen before in his life, but he wasn’t put off by that since he still wanted to someday learn them.

Like the first morning, Sephiroth heavily insisted that his father remove his clothes and bathe before bed or whatever it was he did in his room during the day. Though he hungered to know more about him, to question him until there was absolutely nothing left to ask, Sephiroth knew that it was wise to wait, to allow both of them to get used to one another’s presence first. Especially considering Vincent was obviously not used to being around another person, especially one living with him now. It was kind of sad to think of such an existence, one devoid of human contact, but then again, Sephiroth understood such a thing in his own way. The only true contact he had had with people had been with Hojo and Lucrecia. Anyone that had ever approached him had been led away by one of the guards. When asked, that woman had told him people were dangerous and couldn’t be trusted, that they would hurt him if given the chance.

But was that actually true? He didn’t know. He wanted to believe that everything they’d told him was a lie, but it wasn’t so simple since some of the things they’d said and done had made sense while other words and actions had not. Still, he hoped to find out regardless of the outcome. Even if he ended up getting hurt, he burned to know the truth.

Unlike the first day, Vincent didn’t fight him at all, but Sephiroth suspected had he not been there to enforce it, the man might have skipped his daily bath. Obviously, it would take some time for Vincent to get used to this new bathing routine and until he did, Sephiroth would wake up before dawn to make sure that he did. Plus, he was curious about this man and had the nagging suspicion that if he didn’t seek him out himself, Vincent would probably leave him to his own devices.

Another thing was the food situation. Though there was food available, Sephiroth never saw Vincent eat anything or make anything to eat. Over the course of the week, he had kept an inventory on the food items that was in stock and every night he checked, nothing was missing. Which meant Vincent was starving himself or he ate whenever he left for the night. If that was true, why? And what did he consume on a regular basis? Every living thing needed sustenance of some sort so obviously his father was getting something somewhere. Still, it nagged at him and left him wondering just what it was Vincent ate to sustain himself.

And unsurprisingly, his strange father was as silent as he always seemed to be unless Sephiroth engaged him. It wasn’t unpleasant…just odd. Sephiroth was used to someone talking endlessly about things he usually didn’t have any interest in. So, to be around someone that didn’t speak unless necessary was a big adjustment for him. Everything about this man and this place was a large adjustment for him, too. To suddenly not be penned up in the dungeon all day and night, to actually have some freedom, and to not have the usual people around him, was almost unsettling. It definitely was a big change for him, yet Sephiroth wasn’t the least bit discouraged by it.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Today was the day.

As usual, Sephiroth had woken up before dawn to greet Vincent and to ensure he took care of himself. After his father had wandered off to do whatever he did during the day, the youth headed outside for the first time in well over a week. His sensitive green eyes squinted immediately from the beams of harsh, bright sunlight that struck him unpleasantly in the face at the same time intense cold enveloped him. Shielding his eyes with one hand, he glanced around his surroundings as he continued to squint. What he saw all around him was beautiful, yet ethereal. Almost felt like a dark, surreal dream to him as he stood there marveling at his surroundings.

All of the trees were extremely tall, yet slim and there were many of them, with black bark and crimson red leaves. Strangely enough, not a single leaf lay on the floor of the woods. Most strange of all was the snow that blanketed the ground—and it was barely autumn! It certainly explained why it felt so cold outside, but why? He would have to remember to ask Vincent about this later on, of course. Right now, he was shivering violently from the ruthless cold that seemed intent on freezing him to the bone.

Returning to the house, he opened his closet and was surprised to see it full of clothes that weren’t his, but looked like they could fit him. He had arrived here with a bag full of clothes, yet it still hadn’t been much.

With a shrug, he quickly rummaged through his closest until he found a decent looking, shin-length black hooded cloak, which he quickly slipped on. Sephiroth was surprised by just how warm it felt since upon first glance, it hadn’t seemed like it would be all that warm. He also noticed a burgundy colored scarf, which he grabbed and wrapped around his neck before tucking it closed and lifting up the hood of the cloak. On the shelf of the closet, there were several pairs of gloves. Grabbing the closest ones, he slipped them on and marveled at how well they fit him and how nice they felt. The leather was warm and supple, bending easily without restricting his fingers too much.

When had Vincent done this? It had to have been recent since Sephiroth had just been in his closet an hour or so ago to change from his bedclothes to his day wear. How he’d done it without him noticing boggled his mind and made him half-tempted to seek him out and demand some questions. Again, he had to remind himself to wait, that the time wasn’t right, now. Something inside of him was telling him to wait, to adjust to everything first. Plus, another part of himself wasn’t certain if he was ready to know the answers to the questions digging around in his brain.

Although Vincent had been kind for the most part, something he still wasn’t used to, a part of Sephiroth wanted to run back to his dungeon because it was familiar and all that he knew. As unpleasant as his life there had been, change, especially a big change like this, wasn’t easy for him to ease into. He had had a routine in that dungeon and with those people. He had known what to expect, had been relatively safe there. But here, here he wasn’t so certain. Though his father hadn’t given him any reason to mistrust him, he still felt uneasy and out of place. Luckily, he had read something about this kind of situation before in a book years ago. He knew he just needed to take it one day at a time and eventually, this alien feeling would ebb away until he was used to this man and his environment.

Seeing something glint out of the corner of his eye, he then noticed the amulet on the bedside table. He felt compelled to grab it and put it on, so he did and wondered why the compulsion felt so strong and so sudden. He’d been instructed to keep it with him, so maybe that was why? However, he hadn’t worn it at all since he’d received it and hadn’t felt the urge to do so until _now_. Was magic at play here, or was it something else?

Snorting at the thought, he brushed it off since standing there thinking about it all day would only drive him mad. His nervous legs itched to leave this room and this house to go somewhere _alone_ for once. As excited as he felt, he also felt incredibly anxious, too, but he wouldn’t let that stop him.

Once Sephiroth was outside, he recalled the words Vincent had spoken less than an hour ago:

_‘Head southwest until you reach a path. Follow the path and it will lead you to the village.’_

Breathing the cold air in deeply before exhaling, he then began his trek through the woods. It didn’t escape his notice that the woods were unnaturally quiet, which then distinctly reminded him of a cemetery that Lucrecia had taken him to once to visit her father’s grave. That experience had been very unpleasant for him, but not because he was in a place of the dead. It was the fact that Lucrecia began sobbing and clutching at him like he was her friend, or her family, that had made him feel uncomfortable. Almost as uncomfortable as the icy, lingering calculated stares he received from Hojo on a daily basis.

Sephiroth knew that during the day, there should be some sounds of animals and insects. No wind was blowing, no animals scurrying about and no birds were chirping. Even if the place was covered in snow, there should still be something, somewhere. It shouldn’t be this barren, this dead…right?

After half an hour of walking, he finally reached the path Vincent had mentioned. Along the way, there still hadn’t been any sightings or sounds of any birds, deer, rabbits, or anything else. Eventually he got used to it, but still kept his eyes peeled for anything. Just because he appeared to be alone didn’t mean that he was. At least, that’s what his instincts were telling him since he almost felt like he was being watched.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Thirty or so minutes later, Sephiroth found himself nearing what looked like a small village that was oddly devoid of the snow the woods seemed to be plagued with. He’d never seen a village before in person, but he’d seen sketches of several. The closest thing he’d been to a village had been the city where he lived, or well, where his dungeon had been located. Any time he had left his dungeon, he had been escorted and hadn’t been allowed to go anywhere he wanted in Midgar though he’d managed to glimpse things and people here and there.

Lowering his hood, he then squinted his eyes and stopped walking to take in the view of the village. Just beyond it looked like rolling green pastures, perhaps farmland, along with some impressive looking mountains. Focusing his attention back on the village, he easily spotted people in simple tunics or dresses going about their day working or running errands. It wasn’t until he heard the distant laughter of children that his booted feet began inching him towards the village until he was within it.

Most people seemed too immersed with their daily duties to pay him much mind, though he still received some curious stares here and there as he slowly explored the village like a wary deer that was ready to spring away at any moment. He relaxed slightly, only slightly, when he realized no one seemed bent on bothering him.

In the heart of the village, which was a small marketplace, he slowly explored the various stalls of food, trinkets, and clothes without getting too close to it or any people. Today he just wanted to observe with as much distance as he could achieve without any real interaction. He felt too nervous to engage anyone right now and might unintentionally stumble over his own words if someone tried talking to him.

Sensing something suddenly, which felt strangely like a warm feeling burning within his chest, Sephiroth glanced around until he noticed a pretty girl, who looked around his age, walking around with a basket of lovely silver-white colored flowers. She was short and petite, with a long, thick braid of cinnamon colored hair and healthy, clean skin. She wore a simple, yet clean modest dress and shawl and smiled at people even though many seemed to be scowling, frowning, or shunning her for whatever reasons.

Before he could ponder why she was receiving such negative responses from people, a group of adolescent boys appeared in the marketplace, laughing and joking around as they walked. One of them spotted her and pointed before the others snapped to attention and looked. They seemed to give each other some silent signal that had them all heading towards the flower girl. Once they’d reached her, the leader, a skinny blond-haired boy with cold blue eyes, smacked the basket out of the girl’s arms. The other boys laughed and jeered as they watched like scavengers waiting for scraps.

“Hey!” Exclaimed the girl as she immediately knelt down to gather up the flowers that had spilled everywhere. Her path was immediately blocked by the leader before she could pick up a single one. She glared at him and ordered, “Get out of my way, Rufus. This is uncalled for.”

“No bloody _witch_ is going to come here and sell evil talismans in my town,” explained the leader, his hands on his hips and his skinny chest puffed out as if he believed himself to be a rather impressive specimen. Sephiroth thought the boy looked utterly ridiculous standing there like that and was half-tempted to punch him in his gut. The weak-looking kid would probably puke his guts out, too. The thought made him smirk a bit as he continued to observe the scene. Sephiroth didn’t fail to notice that others were watching, too, but no one was stepping in to help her.

This made Sephiroth angry.

The girl tried to stand up, but the boy pushed her down by her head and wouldn’t let her get back up. The others sniggered around them as if their ‘fearless’ leader had achieved something truly remarkable.

“I’m willing to forgive you, witch, if you _compensate_ me for the evil you tried to do to this town,” leered the leader as he motioned down to his crotch suggestively. A rather noticeable bulge pushed at the crotch of his breeches, which made Sephiroth scowl as he fought the urge not to vomit on the spot.

The girl glared up at the impetuous boy as she slapped his offending hands away from her person. She hissed, “I will do no such thing! Not for you, or for anyone else. Now get out of my way. I don’t have time for you or your spineless friends!”

When the boy ripped at the girl’s dress, Sephiroth instantly saw red as he found himself springing forward like a beast seeking blood. His fist connected hard with the lead boy’s face, a loud crunch echoing in the marketplace as the boy cried out in pain and stumbled back like a drunkard until he fell ungraciously on his flat ass. The other boys jumped in to aid their friend, but Sephiroth was far quicker and stronger. Steps nimble and quick, he effortlessly took down each boy until they were all crumpled on the ground surrounded and covered in their own vomit as they groaned in pain.

Once they were dispatched, Sephiroth turned his attention back to the shocked girl. He suddenly felt awkward and tense standing there, especially since he had reacted without thinking. The anger was gone now and he wasn’t sure what he should do next. Should he leave? He was a stranger in this village, after all, and it didn’t take a genius to know that he probably wouldn’t be welcome here after attacking several of the village youths. With that in mind, he decided it was best that he left as quickly as possible, so he turned to leave, but was stopped by a gentle, small hand on his shoulder.

“Wait, don’t leave,” implored the girl.

It was then that Sephiroth noticed that the crowd that had been watching nearby had dispersed and no one seemed concerned by the fact that he’d just beaten up some of the local villagers. This made him frown slightly, though he didn’t have more of a chance to dwell on it before the girl spoke again.

“You must be new here. I haven’t seen you before,” said the girl as she regarded him curiously with her big, emerald green eyes. As if noticing how uncomfortable he was, her hand dropped away from his shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’re safe here. Those boys are the resident troublemakers here. No one is going to care that you put them in their place.”

Sephiroth’s brow furrowed at that. What was she talking about? The other villagers didn’t seem to like her, either, since they gave her ugly looks or completely ignored her existence. Those boys had attacked her and no one had stepped in to help her. Their leader had even suggested something inappropriate; something that shouldn’t be offered to a girl or anyone else for the matter.

“Come with me…I’ll explain everything at my house. I’m sure you’re confused,” the girl said before she bent down to quickly gather up all of her flowers into her basket. When she was finished gathering everything, she turned back to him and smiled warmly. Holding out her hand, she introduced, “By the way, my name is Aerith.”

Although he wasn’t certain it was a good idea, Sephiroth briefly glanced down at her outstretched hand before he slowly nodded.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Nearly an hour later, Sephiroth found himself inside a cozy, warm cottage on the outskirts of what Aerith told him was called the _Obsidian Woods_ ; however, most people referred to it as _Whispering Woods,_ for some reason.Sitting at a small table with a steaming cup of cider in his hands, he watched her closely as she tended to the plants in her house, singing softly to them as she watered them. The plants seemed to perk up more, seemed more alive and beautiful when she was near them. That seemed silly though he had once read that plants reacted better to soft, nurturing voices. If that was true, he wasn’t certain, yet watching the girl made him think that it was.

“Why do people call it that?” Asked Sephiroth, his thumbs slowly tracing the rim of his mug.

“The woods? Oh, well…most people say they hear whispers whenever they dare enter the woods. Most of the villagers choose not to trespass there anyway because of that and the fact that it seems to always be winter there,” explained Aerith as she headed back to the table to sit across from him. Picking up her own mug, she took a small sip of the hot cider, which caused her pretty face to melt in appreciative pleasure. 

Sephiroth frowned at that. How did that make sense? He hadn’t heard a single thing while trekking through the woods, so obviously those people were either lying or paranoid by just how spooky those woods seemed to be. Shaking his head slightly, he said, “I didn’t hear any whispers…or anything at all, really.”

The green-eyed girl appeared genuinely surprised by that. “That’s strange. The few times I have gone into those woods…I heard things, but they weren’t whispers. I don’t know how to describe it, but I think I _felt_ something more than I heard. Like some sort of unseen presence, I think. There’s something there…something dead, yet alive. I don’t know what it is, but I am not afraid of it. It does not threaten me.”

The silver-haired boy shrugged at that, not knowing what to say. Although being in this girl’s presence made him feel strangely calm and warm, he still didn’t know what exactly to say to her.

“Anyway, about the village…a lot of people there are superstitious. My father used to govern that village. He was a good man and many people respected him…some still do, but the man that governs that village now isn’t like my father. In fact, he’s the father of the first boy you struck. But don’t worry, Lord Shinra won’t seek retribution. He loves his son, but he knows his son gets out of control sometimes. You didn’t kill him or hurt him truly, so I know he won’t try to punish you.”

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at that. What kind of a father was that? It sounded like he didn’t have control over his own son. Like he let him run around doing whatever he wanted instead of punishing him when the boy deserved it. Although every day Sephiroth was becoming more aware of the fact that his own first fifteen years of life hadn’t been normal, he had still been punished when he ‘deserved’ it. Whether he had deserved the punishment or not was another matter, but still, he had learned that bad behavior usually resulted in punishment. “Why do people treat you like…”

“Like a witch? Because I am a witch. But I’m a good witch. Like I said before, the people there believe in superstition. They believe magic is evil when really, it’s just energy, energy that’s within us all. You can do bad things with it, but also good things. But they don’t understand that. They…” Explained Aerith, who trailed off as sorrow dampened her beautiful eyes. Sighing deeply, she continued, “They kill witches there. Because of my father, the people there have an agreement not to kill or to hurt me. Doesn’t stop some people from harassing me, but most people leave me be.”

“Why do you bother going there?” Asked the silver-haired adolescent. He couldn’t believe that she put up with stupid people that treated her like that. Sephiroth himself had put up with Hojo and Lucrecia because he had had no other choice.

Aerith ducked her head a little as if bashful or uncertain, Sephiroth couldn’t really tell. He didn’t understand her just yet, but that was most likely due to his own inexperience with people. “Sometimes they need my help and…and I cannot seem to give up on them. My father cared deeply about that village and the people there. He wouldn’t want me to give up on them and well…I get lonely sometimes. I live here alone now. My mother died a year ago,” confessed Aerith, her small hands gripping the steaming mug harder.

“I never knew my mother,” blurted the green-eyed boy without thinking. He wanted to smack himself for admitting such a thing and was baffled by his own thoughtless admission. Why had he told her such a thing?

Looking at Sephiroth with sympathy, Aerith reached over and laid her smaller hand over his larger hand. Though it was a soft and gentle touch, he still flinched at it, but he didn’t pull away. “It saddens me to hear that, but I’m glad she gave you life. You’re an unusual boy, but you have a good heart. I’m happy to have met you today.”

A good heart? What did _that_ mean exactly? He’d never done anything kind for anyone else, so he wasn’t sure why she was praising him in such a way. If anything, he’d grown up being told he was a worthless burden, something barely human, that couldn’t do anything right. He didn’t completely believe that, of course, but hearing such a thing for many years wasn’t easy to just shake off since it was already lodged beneath his skin.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Stated Aerith thoughtfully as she regarded him with a tilted head and a gentle smile.

“I never had anyone to talk to,” Sephiroth admitted quietly. Once again, he wanted to strike himself for revealing something so utterly personal. And now that he’d said it out loud, he realized just how sad such a truth was, and also just how lonely he realized that he felt…how lonely he’d felt all of his life.

“Well, now you do,” said the girl as she patted his hand gently. Her eyes suddenly widened in realization. “Oh, I’m so sorry! How rude of me. I forgot to ask you for your name.”

“Sephiroth,” supplied the boy before he finally took a tentative sip of the cider arming his hands. He was surprised by just how good it tasted, so he took a larger sip. The silver-haired youth then realized just how easy it was to talk to this girl. Was everyone this easy to talk to, or was it just her? Just what was it about this young witch that made him feel so at ease? He barely knew her, yet felt like he’d known her all of his life.

“That’s such a lovely name…Sephiroth. Do you mind if I ask you where you hail from?” Inquired Aerith as she watched him intently.

The question suddenly reminded Sephiroth of just where he was now and where he currently wasn’t. Glancing out the window, he noticed that the sun would be setting soon. If he tarried here any longer, it would be dark soon. Setting the mug down, he quickly stood up. “I’m sorry, I have to go. My…father expects me home before dark.”

“Oh, well, travel safely then,” said Aerith as she stood up, too.

As Sephiroth headed towards the door, he stopped just before it with his hand hovering over the doorknob in hesitation. Without looking at the girl, he mumbled, “Would you mind…if I visited you here again tomorrow?”

“Of course you can. Know that you may come here anytime you want or need to. My door is always open for you, Sephiroth.”

A strange, unfamiliar emotion tightened in his chest to hear that, to know that he now had two places he was welcome in.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 


	2. Coming of Age

_Two Weeks Later_

“What was it like having a father?” Sephiroth suddenly asked after nearly an hour of undisturbed silence. He’d spent the time lost in thought while watching the young witch tend to her animals and plants. Another great thing about Aerith was her ability to observe silence without having to break it constantly with idle chatter. The girl could talk for hours, if prompted to, but she also could keep quiet for just as long. It wasn’t that he hated hearing her speaking; it was just the opposite, actually, but sometimes he just needed some comfortable silence to bask in.

Looking over her shoulder at him, Aerith seemed confused by his question. “I thought you had a father…?”

“He’s…strange. I’m not certain if he is behaving how a father should. I’ve never had one before, so I don’t know,” explained the silver-haired youth with a shrug.

“I think having a father is different for everyone,” said Aerith as she made her way back to the boy before gingerly sitting down on the grass, careful not to sit improperly since she was wearing a yellow sundress. “Some, like me, have good fathers who are there for them. They provide food, shelter, and protection…and sometimes tough love when it’s needed. Mine was very kind and was always there for my mother and me. And then…there’s bad, horrible fathers out there…who do terrible, unforgivable things to their wives and children. Things no man should ever do to a woman, let alone his own children.”

Staring at the trees with unfocused eyes, he murmured, “I see.”

Aerith seemed nervous now as she chewed her bottom lip a bit. It took her a couple of minutes to gather up enough courage to hesitantly inquire, “Sephiroth…does your father hurt you?”

Eyes snapping back to attention, the boy turned his gaze to his female companion. He wanted to feel offended by such a personal inquiry, but at the same time, he knew she was only trying to help him. Shaking his head, he answered, “So far, no. He leaves every night and comes back in the morning. He…checks on me before he goes to his room, but doesn’t really say anything to me unless I engage him first. I have food and shelter, so it’s not like I’m suffering or anything like that. I’m just…curious, is all.”

The brown-haired girl heaved a deep, relieved sigh as if she’d been holding her breath. “I’m glad. If he ever does something you don’t like, you are always welcome to stay here with me for as long as you need to.”

Sephiroth merely nodded his understanding and gratitude. This wasn’t the first time she’s offered sanctuary to him.

"He's here… _again_ ," announced Sephiroth unenthusiastically. He watched warily as the blond boy from the town trekked his way to Aerith's humble abode. Just over a week ago, the boy, Rufus Shinra, had approached them both to apologize for his ‘misconduct’, as he’d called it. The rehearsed words had sounded like a small speech prepared by an older man, which had most likely been written by his father. Sephiroth hadn't believed his apology one bit and he would have chased him off if not for Aerith’s intervention. She had wanted to hear him out and once she had heard his piece, she had accepted his apology almost immediately. Rufus had seemed surprised by her ability to forgive and to be kind to someone that had wronged her more than once. 

And because of this, Rufus visited every single day despite Sephiroth's protests. He seemed to always be wary of Sephiroth and behaved for the most part, but most likely because if he didn't, the green-eyed youth would beat him up again. In some ways, Sephiroth felt like a guard dog, but he didn't mind. Aerith was his friend now and he would be damned if he ever allowed people to hurt or humiliate her ever again.  

The only reason Sephiroth allowed the visits was on one condition: Rufus was allowed to visit _only_ when Sephiroth was around to supervise. Since he still didn't trust the boy, he refused to allow the blond to ever be alone with the girl, even for a moment. Sephiroth might lack some knowledge of the world that a boy his age should already have, but he wasn't naive or the least bit foolish. He had been warned by Lucrecia about what men often did to women, children, and even other men when presented with the opportunity.  She could have been lying, but after witnessing Rufus' behavior that first day weeks ago, he had concluded that there had been some truth to that woman's words. 

" _You should give him a chance_ ," whispered Aerith.

Sephiroth growled, "The only chance he'll get from me is to lick my boots. Then again...I'd rather step in horse shit than allow that filthy tongue to soil my boots."

The young witch sighed as she shook her head and stared down at her friend's impeccably clean boots. Boots so clean and polished that she swore she could nearly see her reflection in those boots. She had learned early on not to argue with someone as headstrong as Sephiroth since it proved to be futile in the end. That didn't mean she would avoid speaking her mind; it just meant she would drop a subject if her friend pushed back hard enough. 

Without any true venom, the girl sighed, "You're terrible..."

Nearing the two friends and apparently overhearing Aerith, Rufus questioned, "Who's terrible?"

"You are," dead panned Sephiroth. 

"Ignore him. He's cranky," said the witch, smiling slightly. 

The blond blanched as he replied, "No thanks. Ignoring him is like ignoring a wild hog."

"I'm not a pig," snapped the silver-haired youth as he jumped up to his feet, towering over the blond. "After all, _I_ wasn't the one trying to force an innocent girl to suck my penis."

The blond appeared livid now, momentarily forgetting that he was actually afraid of the strange boy and that said boy was much larger than he. "Listen here, I already apologized for that. Stop bringing that shit up every single day. It's getting old."

"Your act is getting old. I don't buy it one bit and I refuse to let you get one over her," retorted the silver-haired boy, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed as he stared the blond boy down. He silently gloated over the fact that he was taller than Rufus, at least a good three inches or so; however, he also kept in mind that this may change due to growth spurts. Hopefully Rufus would never tower over him, but there was no way of knowing until they had both entered into adulthood.

Aerith stood up quickly and deliberately stood between them, arms out, palm flat against each chest. "Enough! If neither of you can play nice then I will kindly ask you both to leave."

Neither boy said anything more, but they both did grudgingly nod their understanding as they turned away from the other. Both were hard-headed and in some ways, both boys were typical boys. It made Aerith smile and shake her head as she watched them stubbornly ignoring one another while shooting one another secret glares when the other wasn’t looking.

Watching them reaffirmed the words of Aerith’s mother: “ _Men are stupid, Aerith. Give them a pitcher of water, more than enough for two men to drink, and they’ll fight over it instead of realizing they can **share** it_.”

She remembered asking her mother why she even bothered putting up with men then, if they were stupid, and her mother had said: “ _Us women are crazy, Aerith. If men were smart, they wouldn’t put up with us, and if women were sane, we wouldn’t put up with men_.”

Aerith’s mother had had a strange, yet clever sense of humor that she hadn’t fully understood or appreciated at the time, but now she was beginning to see the logic and wisdom behind it. Thinking on it now made her miss her mother terribly and it made her heart ache to know Sephiroth had never known his own mother.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

_1 Week Later_

Much to Sephiroth’s dismay, Rufus had convinced Aerith to accompany him to a busy tavern in the village called _The Golden Saucer_. It was partially owned by Rufus’ father and run by a man called Tseng, a friend of the family, whom co-owned it as well. According to the blond boy, the tavern was friendly and usually bustling with business. It also served as an inn for weary travelers or for drunk men and women needing to sleep off all the ale they’d recently consumed. Rufus had also explained that sometimes he helped Tseng whenever the man was short-staffed.

Sephiroth had never been to a tavern before and wasn’t at all prepared for it as he strode inside. The place was dimly lit, just enough for people to see what they were eating and where they were going. Billows of smoke hung in the air as multiple people smoked from what the youth later found out was called pipe weed. Another smell hung in the air, thick and strong, which was a scent he’d smelled before on Hojo a few times. Each time he’d smelled it, it meant Hojo was in a bad mood and would often take it out on him. The scent made him turn around to walk back out, but Aerith curled her slender arm around his much larger arm and pulled him towards the bar insistently. The stares they received by many of the tavern’s patrons made his skin prickle unpleasantly, but he did his best to ignore it. He would stick to his word for as long as he could.

A handsome, dark-haired man at the bar greeted them while he used a clean rag to polish a wine glass. His dark eyes slowly appraised Aerith before sliding over to scrutinize the silver-haired youth, his gaze lingering longer on Sephiroth than it had on Aerith. The prickling sensation intensified, but was followed by something strange, something unknown to the young man. It made his palms sweat, his body shiver, and his stomach feel odd. It didn’t hurt, just felt…weird. Was he sick? He didn’t know since he’d never been sick before in his life.

“Rufus, are they at least of age _this_ time?” Inquired the handsome man as he carefully set the wine glass on the shelved wall behind him without even looking. His dark gaze settled on the blond boy, which relieved Sephiroth since now whatever pressure had been upon him had mostly gone, though his stomach still felt strange.

The blond boy nodded. “Aye, Tseng. They are. Go ahead and look at him. He’s bigger than I am for Gaia’s sake!”

“Doesn’t mean he’s your age,” said the dark-eyed man, a hint of amusement simmering in his smooth, patient voice though his face looked indifferent.

“I’m not a kid,” stated Sephiroth firmly, though his soft voice cracked a bit, making his fair face flush in embarrassment. As of late, his voice had been rising high and low quite a bit and almost always at the most inconvenient of times. It was one of the reasons why he chose not to speak unless he absolutely had to. Last time Rufus made a crack at him about it, he’d nearly punched the blond boy. The only thing that had stopped him was the young witch jumping between them to play referee, again.

Tseng smiled at the green-eyed boy, which caused Sephiroth’s queasy stomach to do strange little flips. Why was it doing that? And why did this man feel familiar to him? Before he could ponder any of his thoughts more, the dark-haired man questioned, “That a fact? Do you have a name?”

Sephiroth nodded. “My name is…Sephiroth.”

“Well, Sephiroth, since you’re not a kid, would you like a man’s drink then?” Asked Tseng, who looked like he was on the verge of smiling, but didn’t break face.

The silver-haired youth had never tasted alcohol before. He truthfully didn’t know what it would taste like or do to him, but he felt the need to impress the bartender, anyway. “I’ll take your strongest drink.”

Rufus made a point of sighing very loudly, loud enough to break through the chatter of the tavern. “Oh, whatever. I doubt he could handle your strongest. Just give him a _girly_ drink, Tseng.”

“I don’t think so,” growled Sephiroth as he jabbed his elbow into Rufus’s side sharply as he hissed, _“shut up.”_

“Do that again and I’ll—“ Started Rufus as he rubbed at his sore side, but was quickly cut off by the witch wedging herself in between them.

“— _Boys_ , _behave_!” Aerith whispered loudly after smacking both boys on their bare arms. It didn’t hurt, of course, but it did quickly gain their undivided attention.

“Nice to see you finally made some decent friends, Rufus,” commented Tseng as he began making three drinks for the teenagers. “I was beginning to worry you’d stay with _that_ unruly crowd…”

Sephiroth was tempted to open his mouth to state that Rufus wasn’t their friend, but stopped when he saw the expression on the blond boy’s face. He looked… _humble_ , like a real person and not like the superficial, spoiled brat persona he usually sported around town. Perhaps the person he was seeing now was the real Rufus Shinra and like Tseng had just stated, he had just fallen in with the wrong people since like all teenagers, he was a young, impressionable youth. Aerith had claimed to see something in Rufus, something deeper within him that Sephiroth couldn’t, or wouldn’t see. So maybe this was it then?

Shutting his mouth, the silver-haired boy accepted the mug of red ale with a nod of gratitude before he stared down at it. The color was a deep, rich red, which prompted him to think of his father’s strange, blood red eyes. Such an unnatural eye color, one looking like freshly spilled blood. It reminded him of both life and death at the same time. Every time he looked at Vincent’s eyes, he saw both life and death in them and when he actually looked _into_ his eyes, he **felt** it, felt it like it was reverberating inside of him. It was a bizarre, unsettling feeling to him; however, since he didn’t feel threatened by it, he chose to disregard it for the time being. His father might be a stranger to him, but he still felt far safer with this strange man than he ever had with Hojo or Lucrecia.

Shaking his odd thoughts away, he swallowed down his nervousness so that he could take a sip of the red ale. It tasted absolutely horrible and he almost spit it out. He would have, too, but Tseng was watching him closely and for some reason Sephiroth couldn’t fathom, he actually wanted to impress the older man. Face heating up, his stubbornness swung into full force, causing him to swallow it. It burned on the way down, but he didn’t let that stop him. The youth took another sip, slower this time, which allowed him to actually taste the flavor, which mostly seemed to have a caramel, buttery toffee sweet taste, but it still tasted utterly repulsive to him. Despite this, he took another sip and then another until eventually he had drained his mug dry. Once he had finished, he set the mug down on the bar. Feeling light-headed and incredibly warm, he blinked slowly as he looked around with dilated eyes, his body feeling like it was burning up in a strange, new way. He squirmed in the bar stool as his cock began to stiffen, his breaths short and sharp. What was happening to him? Was this normal?

“Are you okay?” Aerith asked, her concerned green eyes locked on her friend, her own drink, a pink girly drink, barely touched. Even Rufus had the decency to look concerned as he turned his attention to the silver-haired adolescent.

Tseng paused what he was doing to lean closer, his dark eyes quickly accessing the tallest teenager’s condition. Looking to the blond boy, he ordered, “Rufus, take him outside to get some fresh air.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Once outside, Sephiroth was greeted by the cold, night air, which made his flesh break out in goosebumps due to the sudden contrast of cold against hot. Despite this, the cool air felt good to him as he leaned against the wall of the tavern. It also felt like a relief to get out of that stuffy, smoke and alcohol infested room. His lungs seemed to appreciate the fresh air and though it helped to calm him down some, he still felt overheated and bothered.

“Are you okay?” Asked Rufus as he peered at the silver-haired youth, the tilting motion of his head causing some strands of straw-colored hair to fall into his blue eyes. He was leaning on the tavern wall next to the taller teenager and appeared to be somewhat on the tipsy side. Unlike the other boy, the blond had only consumed a few sips of his own ale.

Sephiroth stared up at the partially hidden moon as he tried to ignore the prickling itch-like sensation that made him feel incredibly hot and restless. Something inside of him was gnawing away at him, was trying to push him towards some purpose unknown to him. What was this? What did he want? He wanted, no, he needed something, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure it out. It also didn’t help that the blond boy’s presence and voice was distracting him from his own thoughts, which only served to make it all that much harder to concentrate.

“Why do you care?” Grumbled the taller boy, his dilated eyes dropping to the ground, eyelids drooping a bit.

Rufus rolled his eyes as he snorted. “Don’t be daft. You’re not an idiot, so it should be obvious to you by now that I do actually care. I wouldn’t be standing here under serious threat of being vomited on if I didn’t give a fuck.”

That was true enough, Sephiroth supposed. Weeks of being subjected to Rufus’ almost constant presence at Aerith’s humble home had softened his distaste for the blond adolescent enough for him to tolerate him. Without any true choice on his part, he’d spent years learning to tolerate the presence of Lucrecia, Hojo, and their assistants. The difference here with Aerith and Rufus was that they didn’t force him to trudge through the woods every day. He willingly visited Aerith’s property every day and when Rufus arrived, he willingly stayed. No one was forcing him to stick around no one was caging him like an unfortunate beast. Despite the occasional fights and head butting, Sephiroth realized that to some degree, he probably actually liked the other boy. That thought made him suddenly look at the shorter male, and when he did, he instantly regretted it because it caused the heat to flare up in his belly before spreading like wildfire. It felt similar to how he felt when he looked at Tseng, yet was not as intense with Rufus. And yet, it was enough to spur him to turn towards the blond more fully before leaning closer. They stared at one another for several long moments before Rufus mimicked his actions.

Sephiroth wasn’t certain who had moved first, but within seconds, he had the shorter boy pressed against the wall, their hands gripping faces and pawing at clothes while they kissed. It was sloppy and obviously lacked experience on both their parts, but neither seemed to care. At least, Sephiroth didn’t care until he realized something hard was poking his thigh. Breaking the messy kiss, he glanced down at the erection tenting the blond’s pants. Like water dousing a flame, he suddenly realized **what** he was doing and to _who_. Quickly untangling himself from Rufus like he’d been scalded, he quickly, yet stiffly turned and walked away in the direction of his home. Not only would it be dark soon, but he was just too freaked out and confused to remain here under an influence he didn’t completely understand.

  

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Being kissed by Rufus had been a complete shock to Sephiroth’s system, especially considering he’d never experienced such a thing before. The only good thing to have come out of it so far was that the blond boy had stayed away from Aerith’s house, most likely because of the awkwardness of the situation. It led Sephiroth to believe that the kiss had been spontaneous, something Rufus hadn’t planned on his part. But he couldn’t help wondering what it had meant. Why had he done it? Why had either of them done it? Sephiroth’s experience in sex and love was next to nothing. The only thing he had to go on was what he’d heard from people and read in fictional and educational books.

However, that wasn’t the worst part of it. The kiss seemed to have triggered something unwanted in him. Every night, he experienced various dreams of the sexual variety, which resulted in him waking up in the morning with his underwear and sleep pants soaked with his own seed, much to his chagrin. It was embarrassing to him and forced him to wash his clothes and sheets on a daily basis. Sometimes he woke up before he ejaculated, his erect cock straining against his pants. All it took was a few tugs and he’d be done.

Lucrecia had done one thing right, it seemed. When he’d begun experiencing morning wood and other changes in his body, she’d explained that that was normal for all boys his age. Of course, she’d only bothered to explain it to him because he had refused to leave his bed, thinking he was sick with some sort of weird ailment. It had been uncomfortable to have her explain something like that to him, but he’d been grateful it hadn’t been explained to him by Hojo. Something told him the cruel man would have traumatized him somehow, as was the man’s nature. Lucrecia must have told Hojo, though, because ever since that day, Hojo had looked at him differently. His spine-chilling stare was more calculated, as if he were trying to size him up and decide something insidious that most likely involved Sephiroth and some new, poorly conceived experiment.

His dick would become erect at the most random times, for no reason at all, it seemed. He’d learned to ignore it, or cover it up with something to avoid the embarrassment of someone gawking at it. But now…it relentlessly assaulted him with a vengeance. Now it was accompanied by faces in his dreams, and things he’d seen in some books. It hadn’t helped much that he’d found some…rather _questionable_ books in Vincent’s attic, which supplied him with several sexual images in his head.

And because of that first kiss, which had triggered the overabundance of wet dreams, he had begun to see familiar faces in them. Sometimes it was Tseng, sometimes Rufus, sometimes Aerith, or sometimes it was some random person from the village he’s seen or briefly spoken to. Not every person featured in his dreams he found attractive to him in any way, and yet they still presented. It was difficult to look Aerith in the eye after such a dream, but at least whenever she popped into his dreams, it was considerably tame and innocent compared to the ones featuring Tseng, Rufus and other men. When it featured a man, the dream was that much more intense for him for whatever reason. Not feeling comfortable approaching Aerith about this, since she was a girl, he had quickly dismissed her as a viable option. Rufus was axed, too, since Sephiroth didn’t completely trust him just yet and...well, he wasn’t quite ready to face the blond youth just yet, either. That left just one other person, besides his witch companion, that he felt some level of trust towards: Vincent.

His father was the only one available to him and he had a feeling the man wouldn’t ridicule or judge him for it despite Sephiroth didn’t know him very well. He just needed someone to talk to, to explain what was going on in his head and body. Was having these dreams normal? Or better yet, was it normal to dream about sex with men? He knew that the sole purpose of sex was to produce offspring, but he also was aware that it was used as _recreation_ for many people. In Vincent’s books, many of the illustrations featured acts that would never produce a child. And in some of them, it featured sexual acts between two or more men.

Before he received the chance to even approach Vincent, he suddenly dreamt of the man pinning him to a tree and fucking him in the middle of the forest. Unlike the other dreams, this one felt more real to him, almost as if it were actually happening to him. The orgasm was so intense that it literally woke him up, or more like, his own screaming woke him up. Fortunately, it had been during the night when his father was out of the house. It would have been incredibly awkward if Vincent had heard him because he would have probably come to investigate the noise. Because of these carnal, unwanted dreams, it became increasingly awkward to be around his father at all when he was having sexual dreams featuring his father almost every night. Was _that_ normal? Though he suspected that it wasn’t normal, he still didn’t know for certain. What he did know was that it was increasingly difficult to look at Vincent, let alone be in the same room with him, after a night of dreaming of doing illicit acts with his own father.

The dreams of other people were far easier to dismiss because like most dreams, if he didn't cling to it, try to remember it, the dream easily faded away until he remembered almost nothing. But when Vincent appeared in them, it was like the dream was branded in Sephiroth's memory despite how hard he tried to forget. It was like something wanted him to remember, wanted him to obsess over it. In a way, the unseen entity was receiving what it wanted since Sephiroth often caught himself staring at Vincent, watching how his lips moved as he talked and as he watched that mouth, he remembered what that mouth looked like  _on_  various parts of him and  _in_  him. Sometimes his eyes lowered and lingered on places he shouldn't be looking at and that’s when he was run out of the room like he was on fire.

Neither of them could live like this. He didn’t want his father to think something was wrong with either of them. Vincent never voiced his thoughts and never followed him, but Sephiroth figured the man was puzzled by his actions. After all, if Sephiroth were in his boots, he was certain he would be confused, too, and probably alienated or at the very least, a little put off. This put a damper on things since the youth actually wanted to know his father better. He found himself longing for something similar to what Aerith had described having with her own father. He didn’t know if they’d ever achieve such a relationship, but he found himself willing to try. Sephiroth just needed to get over this particular hurdle first.

And he would, he knew he would. This was just a part of life. Although he didn’t completely understand everything that was happening to him, especially the surge in hormones and feelings, he did know that he was going through something called puberty that all people went through. His body was only naturally preparing itself for manhood. But still, he couldn’t help wondering why it had to be so awkward and weird. 

Sephiroth knew that he needed to get over his awkwardness and approach Vincent for some answers very soon. Even though his father didn’t talk much, the man did speak to him when prompted to and seemed to answer him the best way he could if the questions weren’t off limits. Hopefully the crimson-eyed man would be willing to talk to him about what he was going through and would provide him with the answers he sought.

 

 ~*~*~*~*~*~

 

To say Sephiroth was livid was an understatement. It was nearly noon now as he paced back and forth near the front door. The chair he sometimes waited in sat cold in its spot since despite the several hours of waiting, he hadn't been able to sit still for longer than a minute or two. And why was he angry? Because his father wasn't home, yet. It was unlike him not to be home around the same time each and every morning. 

So why was he late now? Had something happened to his father? Vincent had claimed dangerous beasts roamed outside at night. Perhaps someone or something had attacked him? What if he was injured right now and desperately needed help? In spite of his anger, he felt worried, though he was loathe to admit it. 

Fiddling with the amulet hanging from his neck, he suddenly remembered what its use was for. If he called Vincent now, would he actually come? But if he was injured then could he even travel? The youth was at a loss for answers because he didn't know how this amulet worked or even how his strange father traveled.  There was never any horses or other mounts outside so perhaps Vincent walked on foot. Or perhaps an associate of his picked him up in a carriage or on horseback. Whatever the actual answer was, he didn't know and it only added fuel to the already dancing fire.

While still brooding about Vincent, said man opened the door and entered the house. He paused in the doorway when he saw the boy and seemed confused by his presence for some reason. "Why...are you still awake? Is something the matter?"

Sephiroth abruptly stopped pacing to turn on his heel so that he was facing the older male. Crossing his arms over his chest, he countered, "Where have you been all day?"

Despite not having his question answered, the dark-haired man said, "I was out. It is no concern of yours. You should go to bed..."

“What were you doing when you were ‘out’? You could have at least told me you’d be out _longer_ ,” said Sephiroth as his stomach clenched into a hard, knotted ball that felt painful.

Vincent didn’t answer right away, but when he did, his face typically impassive as usual, he said, “I don’t have to tell you that. It is of no concern of yours, as I have said.”

The youth’s eyes widened before narrowing in renewed anger. Snatching his coat off the chair, he brushed past his father towards the door. As he ripped the door open, Vincent turned and questioned, “Just where are you going?”

“I don’t have to tell you that. It is of no concern of yours, _Vincent_ ,” vehemently hissed Sephiroth right before he angrily stalked out. His long legs strode faster and faster until he was jogging and it wasn’t long before he was running through the woods. Time seemed to stop, or fast forward, he didn’t rightly know, but suddenly he found himself on Aerith’s doorstep. He rapped on her door urgently until she answered it and when she did, he blurted, “Aerith…can I stay here for a while? I can’t...stay there. I just can’t anymore.”

Her sleepy face suddenly twisted in concern, the girl touched his arm and inquired, “Why? Did he hurt you?”

“Not exactly…” Trailed off Sephiroth, who was reluctant to talk about it, especially when he was still royally pissed off. He still didn’t know exactly why he was so angry in the first place. Irritated, yeah, he could understand that, but why was he so infuriated over this?

“Oh, well, I told you before. You need not ask me. You are always welcome to stay here whenever you need to. I already have a room prepared for you,” answered Aerith kindly. Taking his hand, she led the boy inside. “Come, you look like you need sleep. Why don’t you take a nap? We can always talk about it later when you’re ready to.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Sephiroth awoke in the evening, just before the sun set, to the smell of food wafting into his nostrils. Although he was tempted to just remain lying in the bed, he forced his tired body to slip off from the bed. Padding on bare feet into what served as Aerith’s small dining room, he spotted her setting down some food, the table already dressed for two. When she noticed Sephiroth’s arrival, she smiled kindly at him.

“Feeling any better?”

Sephiroth shrugged and sat down at the small table. He wasn’t actually hungry, but he didn’t want to stand around watching her eat, either. The youth knew he didn’t need to ask for anything since weeks prior, Aerith had told him he was welcome to eat anything she made at any time.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Asked Aerith after several minutes had passed in relative silence. Sitting at the table, too, the witch was busy buttering one of the rolls she had baked for the vegetable stew.

The silver-haired shrugged again, his green eyes unfocused as he stared at nothing in particular. The young witch nodded her understanding as she finished buttering her roll. Being content enough to not disturb the silence, the girl began to eat her food slowly.

“Did your father ever go somewhere without telling you where, or how long he’d be out?” The silver-haired youth suddenly asked after Aerith had finished her meal. Vincent’s words kept ringing in his head, over and over again, and for the life of him, he couldn’t fathom why this bothered him so much. Hojo had said far crueler things to him and he’d always shrugged it off without much effort on his part. So why couldn’t he just let this go? It was nothing, and yet it was everything.

"Oh! Well...he always told me when he'd be back and if he was delayed, he usually sent me a message by courier," answered the witch as she began to clean up the table. Pausing as if realizing she’s made a mistake, she looked at her friend and quickly added, "From what you've told me so far, it sounds like your father has lived alone for some time. He's probably not used to having someone there and might not even be aware that what he did or said upset you."

It made sense to him, but he still couldn’t accept it. The longer he was around Aerith, the more aware he became that the first fifteen years of his life had been utterly wrong and unnatural. He’d spent his life penned up like an unfortunate, starved animal, only to be let out when it was convenient to its masters. No one had cared about him, let alone regarded him as human before he’d met Aerith. Why the girl cared for him, he didn’t know, but he knew that she did. It felt nice to know he had a place somewhere and someone to run to when things were bad or if he just needed someone to listen to him. He’d only known Aerith for a couple of weeks, but already they were quite close. Even Rufus seemed to care, in his own way, which Sephiroth couldn’t help still feeling quite baffled by.

But maybe that was it? Vincent was barely around him as it were. He always left by nightfall and never returned before morning. And when he did return, he checked on Sephiroth before retiring to his bedchamber. To some extent, the youth now felt like a prisoner in the house. He could roam freely during the day with some restrictions, but at night, he had to stay in and by daylight, his _warden_ checked in on him before leaving him to his devices, again. He felt agonizingly lonely in that house even when his father was there because…it didn’t feel like he was actually there with him or even for him. There was little to no interaction unless Sephiroth initiated it, and just like the first day he’d met Vincent, he still didn’t know anything about the man besides the fact the man struggled with hygiene and had some rather _perverted_ illustrated books.

So maybe that’s why he was so upset. He wanted to be closer to Vincent, to know who his father really was, but the older man continued to block him out and keep him at arm’s length. He kept shutting him out and pushing him away, so that had to be the reason why this incident had him so riled up. Although it was true that this was something he grew up being used to, he now knew better thanks to Aerith. Had he not had the witch in his life now, he probably wouldn’t have been upset at all by his father’s indifference to him.

“Someone is here,” whispered Aerith, her green eyes wide. She very slowly and quietly set back down the two plates she had been about to walk over and place in the sink.

The flames that were burning on the candle wicks, as if by unseen fingertips, were suddenly shunted out, the smoke from the extinguished flames rising up in thin, choppy lines. The only light that could be had was the faint, soft light of the moon streaming gently into the room. Whatever noise the nocturnal animals had been making outside had suddenly halted, too. The small house was deathly quiet as Sephiroth looked at his friend in bewilderment. He felt a strange unsettling feeling wash over him, causing the hairs on his neck to rise and prickle. Sephiroth rose up from the chair and instinctively blocked Aerith from view. He didn't know how he knew, but he could feel that something was lurking outside; and it was angry, very, very angry.  

The door suddenly banged open, slamming hard against the wall and cracking it as a swirling, chaotic black mass of something, which looked suspiciously like dark mist, crawled its way through the open doorway. He didn’t know what that thing was, or if it was even alive, but he could feel some sort of energy, one that felt somehow familiar to him. The silver-haired youth stood his ground, acting as shield and protector to the witch behind him, who wisely remained rooted where she stood.

Staring at the thing, which had stopped just a few feet away from him, the green-eyed boy now noticed the outline of what looked like a _person_ within it. Was someone trapped within it, or was this some sort of magical ability the person had? Or perhaps it was the trick of the eye. Sephiroth didn’t know, and there wasn’t much he could do but wait for whatever would happen, to inevitably happen.

The mist, or whatever it was, swirled around and faded until all there stood was a familiar androgynous looking man clothed in worn red and black attire. A pale face, normally calm and devoid of most emotion, was now utterly transformed into a visage twisted by fury, which actually scared Sephiroth a bit, making him take a couple of steps back. Crimson eyes glared at him from underneath disheveled, dark hair while pale lips formed a tight line, almost a scowl. The man was clearly pissed, but why, Sephiroth wasn’t entirely certain, but he knew his father’s anger was most likely because of him not returning by nightfall.

For the first time since meeting Vincent, Sephiroth was suddenly very much afraid of this strange, mysterious man…or was it _monster_? He didn’t know what Vincent truly was, but it was clear to him now that the man wasn’t a normal human by any means. And if Vincent wasn’t human, then that meant Sephiroth wasn’t either, and _that_ truly frightened him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~


	3. Breaking of Hearts

Everything happened quick, too quick. A swirl of untamed darkness consumed Sephiroth, bathing him in darkness so thick he couldn’t see a thing. The lack of sight made him hyperaware of touch so that when he suddenly could feel big hands on him, he jerked as if burned. Before he could even process what was happening, he found himself landing flat on his ass as the darkness rapidly dissipated until it was no more.

Glancing around wildly at his surroundings, he realized where he was now: Vincent’s house. How…how had he gotten here? So quickly, and so strangely, too. It made no sense, yet before he could continue to think on it, he heard someone cough. Looking up, he saw his angry father standing before him, his arms stiff at his sides and eyes burning brighter than ever before.

“You had but one rule to obey, _one_ rule, and yet you still broke it. I told you to _stay_ here at **night**. You could have been killed!” Growled Vincent, his voice ragged with emotion, his hands shaking at his sides despite his hands being clenched into tight fists.

Sephiroth’s fear melted away as he stared up wide-eyed at his fuming father. Vincent was livid, yes, but behind that anger was several other emotions mingling together. Although he was no expert by any means when it came to feelings and emotions, Sephiroth realized that Vincent was revealing what was behind his usual cold mask of indifference. It was scary, and yet it mesmerized him. Despite the situation, it was starting to feel like he was finally learning something about his cryptic father.

“You were worried,” stated Sephiroth, testing the waters slightly.

“Of course I was worried. Why wouldn’t I be?” Said the crimson-eyed man as if this was common knowledge he should know.

Sephiroth chose not to answer that.

"What were you doing with a  _witch_? They are dangerous, Sephiroth," his irate father questioned.

"Aerith is my friend. She's not dangerous," defended Sephiroth. He was getting really fed up with how people treated his friend. The townspeople mostly ignored her now, but some still found it in themselves to gawk at her like she was a mythical beast or some untamed demon set on purging the world of life. Whenever he noticed, he glared at them until they looked away in shame or fear. Most of the people had learned not to mess with him, especially after the incident with Rufus and a couple other ones with other youths. In all the time he'd known Aerith, he'd never witnessed her committing any evil acts. Everything she did was done out of a gentle kindness that he was still trying to adjust to. 

Vincent began pacing, his normally blank face betraying his frustration, anger, and worry. "Friend or foe, she is dangerous…to _us_. She can kill me, which means that she can certainly kill you if she so chooses to. Or use you. They are the only ones that can. Do not take this lightly, Sephiroth."

Aerith could kill his father and him? Only her kind could? That sounded strange to him since he was under the impression almost anything could kill him if done correctly. Of course, he didn't believe Aerith would harm or use him; however, he did not know that for certain since even the most predictable person could have a moment of unpredictability. Still, he wasn't willing to throw away one of his only true friends over some irrational fear. He felt conflicted because he should be offended for her and yet...he wasn't because right now, he was seeing a side of Vincent he'd never seen before. The man was showing he cared, in his own protective, Vincent sort of way. It was endearing. And yet...that also begged the question of what Vincent was and what he was. If Vincent was his blood father then that meant he was half of whatever his father was. But what could that be? 

"What are you?" Finally asked Sephiroth as he hesitantly took a step towards his father. 

Vincent stopped pacing to look at him, looking as if he'd been caught off guard by his son's inquiry. He looked conflicted before he cast his eyes away to look at anything but the youth. "There...are many names for what I am, what you are, but we have no true name. Most do not know of our existence. To most of the world, we are but a myth. That is the way it must be."

"What do they call us then?" Asked Sephiroth, trying his best to contain his budding impatience. Now that he had Vincent actually talking to him, he longed to know more. To know everything. The strength for the truth bordered on obsession. 

"Death. Grim Reapers. Thanatos. Death Walkers. Angels of Death. Soul Stealers. Hel. The Ankou. Mot. The Dullahan. The Banshee. Magere Hein. Giltinė. Cù Sìth. Shinigami. Depending on the culture, there are many names for what we are, and what is told may differ, however…they all stem from what I am and what you are. We are...living beings tasked with the duty of taking lives fated to die. It is what I do every night…what I  _have_ to do. It is why I wear gloves.  If I touch someone with my bare hands...they die, whether it is their time to die or not," explained the dark-haired man. He finally looked back at Sephiroth, his face looking resigned. "You...will need to wear gloves soon...since you are starting to mature. I...am sorry I waited to tell you. It is not an easy thing to accept. There are few that know the truth about us and even fewer that are willing to believe we exist…despite the folklore."

Sephiroth stood gawking at Vincent in shocked silence as he took in his unexpected words. If he had been any other person, his mouth would probably have been hanging open like a gaping fish. As he processed Vincent’s words, he remembered reading about such things in books, mostly mythological books. Hojo had preferred that Sephiroth only read the books he’d personally approved as educational, but sometimes the youth had been able to get one of their assistants to slip him something _different_ to read. As much as he liked learning, becoming smarter and knowing more about the real world, there was a part of him that thoroughly enjoyed fiction. It had always been his temporary escape, his only escape, from his sad, bitter reality.

His green eyes glanced down at the gloves that he always saw Vincent wearing. He’d never once saw the man without them on. Looking down at his own hands, he wondered if what Vincent said was true. If any of this was true, then that meant he wouldn’t be able to touch anything living and such a thought made him swallow thickly. It didn’t seem fair that he had lived most of his life locked up, without people to interact with really, let alone touch, only to find out that it was likely he would never touch anyone in a platonic or sexual manner with his bare hands now. He wasn’t ready to accept this, to have what little he had ripped away from him in the blink of an eye. A part of him desperately hoped that the older man was lying to him about all this because the truth was far more staggering to take in.

“This is very difficult to believe,” commented Sephiroth slowly as he shook his head. For all he knew, his father was just a deranged, homicidal hermit who left each night to kill whoever he wanted. Or maybe just a pathological liar that enjoyed spinning tales to whoever would listen to him. Although…now that he thought about it, he clearly remembered _how_ Vincent had arrived in Aerith’s home, a mass of terrifying, swirling darkness that was obviously not human, or at least, not completely human. Despite this, he still found it hard to believe that his father was a Death Walker, an angel of death, or whatever he was actually called. It was possible that Vincent was a witch, too, which might explain his strange ability to travel instantly from place to place. Then again, for all he knew, that blink of a moment could have taken hours. He knew he was starting to grasp at any explanation now since it was all so hard to believe. “How do I know you’re not just making this up?”

“You don’t. That is up to you to decide. Just know that I have never lied to you,” Vincent started and raised his hand quickly to silence Sephiroth before he could open his mouth. “However, there are truths I have yet to tell you…”

“Such as?”

The crimson-eyed man looked away again, eyes downcast and face turned away. “It is…complicated.”

The older man’s words and his body language signaled that this was something personal to him. It was obvious to Sephiroth that his father had a hard time discussing personal matters, at least with him, and it wasn’t so unbelievable. Sephiroth himself found it difficult to talk about personal things, too. It felt like pulling teeth to talk to other people, to express his own thoughts or feelings. Despite this, as time passed, he was finding it slowly easier to talk to Aerith.

“I believe you,” Sephiroth started slowly and when Vincent looked at him, he continued, “About what you are, what I am. You’ve been shutting me out all this time, but I do not believe you have lied to me, yet.”

“Shutting you out,” repeated Vincent slowly as he stepped closer to Sephiroth, which somewhat intimidated Sephiroth, although the adolescent didn’t believe it was his intention to do so. “Explain.”

Trying not to let the older man’s close proximity get to him, Sephiroth closed his eyes for a moment, his body shivering as he shakily exhaled. He heard Aerith’s sweet, understanding voice in his head telling him to talk to his father, to tell him how he felt. This actually helped give him some strength and courage, which wasn’t surprising since his friend was like his rock. She was able to ground him when he felt like he’d fly up into the sky to be lost forever with the distant, unobtainable stars and planets. Opening his eyes, he confessed, “I don’t know you. I barely know anything about you. You leave all night…then come morning, you barely say two words to me. It’s like I’m just some _thing_ that you’re tolerating until I’m old enough to leave.”

Vincent said nothing as he listened, his undivided attention centered on the younger male. Perhaps he suspected that Sephiroth wasn’t done speaking, yet, and was waiting for him to finish his piece first. If that was the case, Sephiroth felt grateful for it as he felt his heart anxiously pounding in his chest and blood rushing, making him feel hot and shaky. At his sides, his hands shook uncontrollably, so he quickly grabbed his pants, fingers twisting hard into the fabric in an attempt to still them.

When the green-eyed teenager found his bearings, he continued, “ _They_ …treated me that way, too. I’m not saying you’re like them exactly. Just saying…in some ways, it feels similar to me. They came in every day, got what they wanted from me, and left me there alone. Unlike them, you’re not trying to hurt me, I don’t think, but…”

“I see,” quietly murmured Vincent, eyes casting themselves down as he appeared deep in thought. Whatever he was feeling wasn’t clear to Sephiroth; however, it seemed like whatever residue of anger that had been there earlier, had melted away. Or so the youth hoped. He didn’t like Vincent when he was angry. He’d learned long ago to associate anger with pain, which was why he felt so anxious now. The boy kept expecting Vincent to hurt him, to punish him for what he had done wrong.

Several long tense minutes passed, feeling like a lifetime, until the dark-haired man looked up to meet Sephiroth’s apprehensive eyes. “What would you have me change?”

This gave Sephiroth pause, his body still tense despite how placid Vincent appeared to him. He honestly hadn’t expected his father to be so… _reasonable_ nor had he expected him to ask _Sephiroth_ what should be changed. The youth was used to constantly being the one demanded to change, to improve, and to never make a specific mistake ever again. With it always came blinding hot pain and humiliation. Although the negative reinforcement worked to a degree, it always left Sephiroth feeling less human, less alive than he had prior to his punishment. So, to actually have the adult asking for his input instead of yelling at him, threatening him, or beating him, was shocking to his system. He didn’t even know what to say, he just gawked at his father like he had suddenly become braindead.

“What is it?” The crimson-eyed man inquired, taking a step closer. He seemed hesitant as he reached out, drawing his hand back slightly before he ultimately settled for awkwardly clasping Sephiroth’s shoulder. “I’m not going to hurt you. Speak freely.”

Sephiroth nodded slowly, a bit distracted by being touched. This was also a very rare occurrence, too, at least when it came to his father. “How about next time you’re going to be out all morning, you just tell me beforehand?”

“Why?”

The younger male crossed his arms. “How did you feel when I didn’t come home before nightfall?”

“You…have a point there,” conceded Vincent, sounding and looking as if he had initially wanted to say something else. “Anything else?”

“I’d like it if you…” The adolescent ducked his head, hair falling in his face like a shield as he felt his face burning. He shouldn’t feel embarrassed by his suggestion, but he felt it nevertheless because it was rather personal to him. “If you spent some time with me now and then. Maybe just talk to me. I don’t know. I’ve never had a father before, so this is still new to me.”

Vincent nodded, gently squeezing the youth’s shoulder. “It’s new to me, too. I…can do that. Anything else?”

“Yes, I’d like to…know more about you…if you don’t mind, that is,” distractedly murmured Sephiroth since the simple squeeze to his shoulder left him feeling both woozy and stunned. It wasn’t like either one of them made a habit of touching one another, so when it did occur, it was unexpected…yet not unwelcome.

For a moment, it appeared as if Vincent was about to shut down but ended up surprising the youth by conceding once more. “Very well. What do you wish to know?”

“Where were you all morning?”

“With a woman,” answered Vincent as if he were discussing something bland like the weather.

Sephiroth’s eyes caught something dark peeking out from under Vincent’s shirt collar. He’d spotted that dark blemish on some of the people at _The Golden Saucer_ and one of those people had been Tseng. At this point in his life, he knew what it was, which meant… “ _Oh._ ”

He realized it meant that to some extent, Vincent was sexually involved with someone else. If it was physical, or something pertaining to the heart, he found he didn’t care to know the answer to that. The silver-haired youth looked away, eyes anywhere but on his father because he didn’t like the feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t understand why he was feeling it, but even more infuriating than that was that he didn’t even know _what_ it was. For a moment, he was reminded of the impure dreams he’d been having about his father and how awkward he felt to be around him now when he was awake. It could be that the weird feeling in his stomach had to do with all that. He was a teenager, after all, and had read about how his hormones would be raging and he’d be feeling all sorts of strange and confusing feelings. Perhaps it was just his hormones driving him insane. Or maybe it was something else that had less to do with hormones, and more with his loneliness. Maybe…he just didn’t like the idea of Vincent ignoring him in favor of running off to some woman. Yeah, that had to be it…

Vincent then prompted, “Anything else?”

Sephiroth couldn't help but press forward for more information since he burned to know more _and_ desired to quell that unpleasant feeling churning in his stomach. His father was actually speaking more than a few words to him and was actually treating him more like an adult than a little kid. Knowing that made him begin to feel sparks of heady excitement. He was probably getting ahead of himself right now, but he didn't care. "Who was my mother?"

A flicker of emotion passed quickly on Vincent's face, too quickly for Sephiroth to properly identify it. But it was enough for him to gather that this was personal for his father. Said man turned away slowly, averting his gaze as he crossed his arms over his chest, which signaled that he was probably clamming up again. "She is no more, Sephiroth, and leave it at that."

He really wanted to protest, he did, but he held himself back since it suddenly occurred to him that this might be painful for his father. For all he knew, Vincent had loved his mother and had been rejected by her. Or maybe…she was **dead**. Had Vincent taken her life? Some women died at childbirth, or from illness. The younger male wanted to know the answer to his question badly, wanted to know  _everything_ , and yet…he felt compelled to back off for now because his instincts were warning him to. Vincent had finally opened up to him, had finally revealed to him some things he hadn't known before. It would be greedy to push for more and so quickly. He would drop it for now; however, he wouldn't dare forget it and would someday ask again when the time was right.  

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

_Two Years Later_

Several inches taller and already beginning to fill out, Sephiroth couldn’t help smirking a little at Rufus’ sour mood. The blond boy had hoped in vain that he would be taller than Sephiroth and wasn’t happy to have that hope dashed. Sephiroth had already known it wouldn’t happen based on his knowledge of genetics. Rufus’ father wasn’t tall and apparently no one else had been in his family, according to Tseng. Sephiroth’s own father was tall, which had given him a good indication that he would most likely grow to be tall, too. He’d noticed that most of the men in the village seemed to be under 5’10”, with 5’8” being the average height. It honestly didn’t matter one way or another to the green-eyed youth, but it was still fun to poke at the blond’s sore wound since the shorter boy seemed to believe everything was a competition between them. It really wasn’t, at least in Sephiroth’s perspective; however, he sometimes humored his friend just because it was amusing.

The two years that had passed had been relatively normal considering that Sephiroth, Aerith, and Vincent weren’t normal people by any means. His father had kept to his word most of the time by taking the time to talk to him, though Vincent seemed content to mostly listen. And though it was rare for him to stay out longer than normal, the crimson-eyed man did take the time to inform him of any extended absences. Another issue, the _Aerith is a witch_ issue, had been settled a few weeks after their first real confrontation. Sephiroth wouldn’t budge on severing ties with Aerith, so they had had to reach a compromise: Vincent would supervise these visits until he could ascertain whether or not the witch was a threat. After a few weeks of silently observing from afar, the older man had given Sephiroth his blessing, so to speak.

When Sephiroth had turned seventeen, he had bitterly found out the truth of Vincent’s words regarding their race. The silver-haired youth had discovered and picked up an injured bird with the intention of taking it to Aerith since she loved helping animals. Before he could take one step forward, the poor bird had died the moment his hands had touched it, frozen stiff like he’d leached the life out of it in an instant. After that unsettling moment, he made certain that he always remembered to put on his gloves before he touched anything living. It felt unnatural to wear gloves all of the time, but he had little choice. He didn’t want to accidentally kill anything else ever again. Next time it could be a person…like Aerith. Others had questioned his new obsession with always wearing leather gloves; however, he didn’t reveal the truth of it, not even to Aerith. Every time a question was posed, he merely explained that his hands suffered from a serious condition. It wasn’t exactly a lie, since he did consider it to be a serious condition since if he touched anything living with his bare hands, death would ensue. It was safer just to take the proper precautions and to keep everyone in the dark about what he was. Obviously far from normal to anyone with eyes, he didn’t feel the need to give people another reason to gawk at him. He’d had enough of being gawked and prodded at for the first fifteen years of his life, as it were. The other reason being was that he’d promised his father that he wouldn’t tell another soul, especially not Aerith. Even still, sometimes Sephiroth had the sneaking suspicion that Aerith already knew what he was. Perhaps she’d known before he had and had said nothing because she was a polite girl. If she somehow knew, he felt that she wouldn’t blab his secret.

The awkwardness that had been wedged between the two boys had ebbed away until the memory was just something Rufus laughed and Sephiroth shook his head at. It was just a silly memory now and thankfully whatever spark that had compelled Rufus to kiss Sephiroth, had quickly dispersed into nothing. They were both adolescents and despite hating the hormone excuse, he knew it also had to do with that. The green-eyed boy eventually determined that the original tension between them both had been confused for something else, kind of like what he had experienced with Vincent with the dreams and awkward feelings that ensued afterwards. It was just hormones. It meant nothing in the end.

The first time he had lost his virginity hadn't been planned by Sephiroth or by the one to take it. Since Rufus had been sick and Tseng needed help cleaning up after a night of drunken regulars, Sephiroth had decided to lend a hand. It had been early morning and they'd just finished tidying up the mess when they'd both decided to have a small drink. Save the farmers and bakers, most in the town were still asleep in their beds. Which meant that the chance someone would interrupt them was low. Not that either of them had done much thinking of any kind since it had been quite…impulsive.  
  
Had he regretted it afterwards? No, he honestly hadn't regretted it, although for a few weeks, he had felt conflicted by it since it was something new and perplexing to him. While the experience had been far from perfect, had been quite messy, somewhat painful, and quick, he had still enjoyed it overall. It was enough for him to keep coming back for more, after all.

That day he had also suspected that his sexual attraction seemed to be limited to men only. Women didn't turn his head or inspire any other sort of response in him at all. He was attracted to masculine, strong things, it seemed. Soft and feminine wasn't a bad thing nor did he look down upon it. It just...wasn't something he was sexually attracted to. He liked the heavy feeling of another man's body pressed against him, on top, or below him. The hard angles of men did more to incite a reaction in him than the soft curves of women.

Just to be certain, with his friend’s permission, he had experimented by kissing Aerith. It had been awkward and had felt utterly wrong to him. She was just too soft, feminine, and sweet for him, like he imagined a mother might be. In fact, he saw her more of a sister than anything else. Even if he was attracted to females, she still wouldn't ever be one he would enter into a sexual relationship with. Her personality wasn't one that would sync well with his own, especially since they were both completely different people. As friends, they were just fine together. But anything more...would never happen and really, it didn't matter in the long run because they both seemed to be fine with the way things were between them.

He had a feeling that if Hojo had come to discover his preference, the man would have thrown a horrible fit. He'd had had a couple of years to revisit his memories and as time passed, he was realizing more and more that his purpose to Hojo and Lucrecia had been akin more to a farm animal than a prisoner. Yes, he’d been confined, but not as punishment. It was possible that they had known what he was and perhaps that was what had invoked such an unnatural fixation on Sephiroth. But how had they known such a thing? And why would they have believed something that unbelievable when the rest of the world couldn’t perceive of it?  Better yet, how had they managed to obtain him in the first place? Had his mother blabbed to someone about what he was? Had she been aware of what Vincent was? All of his memories were of _that_ place, with Hojo and Lucrecia. He couldn’t recall even having known anything remotely paternal in his life. Obviously, his memories of being an infant were null, but he could still remember that place as a toddler. Whatever the answers were, he was pretty certain that his father could enlighten him to the truth. Of course, that was _if_ Vincent ever became willing to reveal the truth to him. Although his father acknowledged him more and spoke to him, he was still hesitant to speak about personal truths.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~  


 

“Do you require some _assistance_?” Sephiroth asked, a smile nearly gracing his young, beautiful face. His eyes followed the slow, methodical movement of Tseng’s hands as he continued to dry a clean glass. Malachite eyes misted over as the youth remembered watching those graceful, yet strong hands glide over other things more interesting. His raging teenage hormones made it fairly difficult to think of anything else, but he still managed to divert his thoughts whenever necessary. It wasn’t all just physical to him, though. Sephiroth was quite fond of this calm, patient, and intelligent man even if he didn’t talk much or show much emotion at all. Something about Tseng was strangely familiar and comfortable to him. Whatever it was, he liked it and felt he could relate to him despite the noticeable gap in their ages.

Those hands stopped cleaning the glass slowly, and even more slowly, dark eyes lifted to regard the youth. The older man’s shoulders seemed to sag heavily, as if something was weighing them down. Something seemed to be bothering Tseng and truthfully, Sephiroth had picked up on it a week prior. Something about the older man reminded him of the way his father had reacted to him that fateful night he had angered Vincent by breaking one of his rules. It had taken him some time to sort it out, but he now knew what it was: _guilt_. Tseng seemed to be burdened with guilt, but why?

“I believe…it would be better if we ended _this_ ,” Tseng finally spoke, his demeanor blank despite how heavy his voice had become with each word uttered. He slowly lowered both rag and glass down on the bar before placing his palms flat on the bar.

Sephiroth froze on the spot, his chest constricting painfully as he stared in shock at the older man. He honestly hadn’t expected this, had felt things had been fine between them. The relationship was something new, only a few months old, but he’d expected it to last longer. His youth and inexperience had dared him to hope that his first sexual relationship would have lasted several months longer, maybe even years. Since he had nothing to compare it to in the first place, the youth had foolishly believed what they had had between them had been something solid. The longer the uncomfortable silence stretched between them, the more he became aware of just how foolish he had been to believe this had been something more than sex. Especially considering Tseng had never confirmed to him or anyone else that there had been a legitimate relationship between them.

“May I inquire as to why?” His voice now cold and hard, Sephiroth broke the silence when his throat no longer felt like something was lodged in it. All the unpleasant emotions and feelings he was currently experiencing were greatly unwelcomed, so with great effort, he pushed them down hard.

“There’s someone else…has been someone else, for quite a long time now. It’s not fair to him, nor to you, to continue this,” explained Tseng as he tried to reach out to grasp Sephiroth’s shoulder in comfort, but the adolescent boy jerked away as if burned. He then took several steps back to put a greater distance between them just in case the older man attempted to touch him again.  

Not fair to him? Not fair to the _other_ man? If there had been someone else, someone Tseng cared enough about to be exclusive with, then why had he led Sephiroth on? Mistakes happened, but why had Tseng dragged it on for months without saying anything? It made Sephiroth want to laugh, a hollow, bitter laugh, but no sound dared escape his mouth. Instead of verbally responding, he sharply turned away and hastily left _The Golden Saucer_ without another word. Every stiff step became quicker until he was flat out running out of the town and into the woods at an inhumane speed he didn’t even notice. He didn’t stop dashing until he reached his home, and ultimately his room, which he locked himself in for weeks. He did nothing but sleep and when he was awake, he restlessly paced his room until he felt tired enough to sleep again. He didn’t eat, barely drank water, and didn’t bother to bathe himself despite his compulsion with being clean. Sometimes he sat at his desk writing for hours until his hand cramped up and his eyes blurred. Whatever he wrote, he tore up into tiny shreds since it embarrassed him to read something so raw, emotional, and pathetic. It didn’t take long for his father to notice his absence, and when he did, the man tried to talk to him, but to no avail. Sephiroth wouldn’t open his door for Vincent, or even for his concerned friends when they had both visited together after hearing no word from him for several days.

When Sephiroth finally emerged from his room, he wasn’t the same teenager from before. It wasn’t a gigantic change, but it was enough to be noticed by even the most dim-witted person. He was more stoic, more withdrawn, and was even less willing to speak about how he felt, even to Aerith. Although he still visited his friends, though less frequently than before, he avoided the town entirely. The silver-haired youth wasn’t ready to even look at Tseng and if he avoided the town, there would be less chance of accidentally encountering said man. With his wounds still raw and open, Sephiroth wasn’t ready to look at Tseng. Just the mere thought of his ex-lover still angered him greatly and caused his broken heart to ache painfully.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Tseng hurt you, didn’t he,” abruptly stated Rufus one day while the three of them were at Aerith’s cottage. Aerith was outside tending to her plants while Rufus sat inside sipping hot cider at the dining table and Sephiroth stood at the window staring outside at nothing in particular.

His mug untouched, Sephiroth said nothing as he continued to stare out the window silently, his body now extremely tense. He could hear the girl humming softly to the pants as she lovingly tended to them. It was in that moment that he envied Aerith’s peace.

Rufus pushed away from the table to walk over to him. Looking outside, too, he stood beside the taller male as he crossed his arms. “I’m not as stupid as you take me for. I noticed there was something between you two _months_ ago. And well…he’s been asking about you. He wanted to know if you’re doing okay. It didn’t take me long to put two and two together, really. And I…”

Although Sephiroth didn’t turn his head, he looked at Rufus out of the corner of his eye. It was the first time he’d looked at the other boy all morning.

“I punched him and broke his nose,” confessed the blond boy in a small, tight voice, which indicated he wasn’t proud of himself. He shrugged as his shoe toed at the floor nervously. “I probably shouldn’t have, but I wasn’t thinking at the time. I was just so…so angry. So please just tell me I didn’t punch him for nothing. You don’t have to go into detail, just…nod or _something_.”

After what felt like hours, but really was just a few, long agonizing minutes, Sephiroth nodded just once. Truthfully, he hadn’t actually wanted any harm to come to Tseng, although the idea of punching him had surfaced in his mind more than a few times in his fantasies. He also was surprised that Rufus had stood up for him and not just against anyone. He knew what Tseng meant to Rufus, so…for the blond boy to actually punch him, said quite a lot, really. It spoke volumes about how much Rufus cared about Sephiroth. If someone had told him such a thing just a year or two ago, Sephiroth wouldn’t have believed it. Although Aerith and Rufus had been his friends for around two years now, and Vincent his father, he still found it bizarre to know that there were actually people in the world that cared about him and viewed him as an actual person. Sometimes it felt overwhelming for him to know that there were people that wanted him to be safe and wanted to actually hear about his thoughts and feelings. It was so surreal to feel both accepted and loved since he’d lived most of his life without such things. Sometimes when he woke up at night, he expected to be back in his drafty, lonely dungeon again with a few hidden books as his only companions.

Rufus seemed relieved as his arms dropped to his sides. He even smiled a little bit as if thinking something amusing to himself, to which he actually voiced aloud. “Aha…you know…you might not believe this, but when Aerith found out, she wanted to march over to Tseng’s house and punch him, too. I didn’t expect that. I half-expected her to scold me like she was my mother or something…”

Sephiroth nearly cracked a small smile at that, but the pain was still too fresh for him to smile or laugh just yet. As gentle and kind as Aerith was, he knew there was a force inside of her to be reckoned with. As scary as Vincent was when he was enraged, Sephiroth suspected that Aerith was scarier when angered. Fortunately for him, he hadn’t yet roused her rage and truthfully hoped that he never did.

“Want to go for a walk? I know it’s not winter just yet, but I thought I spotted a [Winter Wolf](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/dungeonsdragons/images/3/38/Winter_by_sandara.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20110502032822)the other day,” suggested Rufus after an undetermined amount of time had passed. He’d been shifting his weight foot from foot for the past several minutes as if anxious to do something, anything. Or maybe he just suspected that Sephiroth probably needed something to do to distract himself from his thoughts. Sometimes a good distraction, or any distraction really, was the best thing for someone that was troubled in the head or the heart.

Sephiroth looked away from the window to regard Rufus more fully. He was deeply relieved that the blond boy had dropped the Tseng subject since he wasn’t willing to talk about it just yet. He wasn’t sure if he ever would talk about it to anyone, but it helped to know that the other boy seemed to understand in his own way and was supporting him despite how aloof Sephiroth had become. Even though the wounds were still quite fresh, when he walked outside with Rufus to wander the woods, he somehow felt a bit lighter than he had in weeks.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~


	4. To Be Touched Part I

 

_Four Years Later_

“ _Unngh_!” Grunted the tall, muscular man as he fell flat on his ass, dust and dirt kicked up by the force of his graceless fall. He had the skills to fall without allowing his weapon to fall from his hand, but before he could recover, the sharp end of a long, slender sword pressed against the skin under his chin. He couldn’t help smiling slow despite having something dangerously sharp pressed against his vulnerable spot.

Sephiroth, at his full height of 6’1”, stood before the fallen man, his blade in hand as he stared down coolly at the other man. Deep voice as cool as his blade, he inquired, “Do you yield?”

“Always prove to your opponent that you’re serious. Cut the skin a little, make them bleed. It lets them know you mean business,” advised the calm man currently sitting on the ground as if he didn’t have a deadly implement crowding his neck.

“Very well,” said Sephiroth as he applied slight pressure, shallowly cutting the man’s neck just enough to draw a few droplets of blood that rolled slowly down his corded neck before disappearing under his armor. His green eyes remained rooted to the wise blue eyes watching him closely as if waiting for him to lower his guard. Despite the smile on the older man’s face, Sephiroth knew better than to underestimate the seasoned soldier, a man twice Sephiroth’s own age. He repeated, “Do you yield, Angeal?”

“Yeah, yeah, I yield. You got me. Can I get up now?” Conceded the older man, laughing at himself.

Gingerly withdrawing his blade from the other man’s neck, Sephiroth extended his arm out to offer Angeal a hand. Once the older man took his hand, Sephiroth effortlessly heaved him up to his feet as if the man weighed nothing. Their joined hands lingered together for moments longer than was necessary before the silver-haired man broke the hold.

“It’s insane just how much you’ve improved since the last time we met. You’re almost as good as I am,” said the blue-eyed soldier as he brushed dirt and other debris from the seat of his pants. Nostalgia set in, making his eyes appear glazed he wiped away the blood from his neck with a clean cloth. “Seems like just yesterday you were practicing with a wooden sword…”

“On the contrary, I _am_ better than you,” disagreed the green-eyed man, smirking a bit as he sheathed his sword in its scabbard at his back. Arms crossed, he watched the older man with an uninterested expression on his face even though on the inside, he was far from indifferent. All sorts of emotions and feelings were afflicting him once again. He had believed he’d long since killed and buried anything he’d felt for this man but seeing Angeal again seemed to have reawakened his attraction to him. Looking away, Sephiroth then drawled, “It’s _only_ been a year…”

“I know I said six months, but…you know how it is. I go where they send me and until I’m relieved of duty, I’m stuck wherever I am for as long as they order me. I do apologize, Sephiroth. It wasn’t my intention to deceive you in any way,” apologized Angeal as he attempted to reach out and touch the younger man’s face. His hand dropped to his side uselessly when Sephiroth turned his face away, rejecting his gesture of comfort.  

Not wanting to admit that he’d missed him or resented that it had taken so long, he chose to ignore the apology completely. He’d made up his mind a few years ago and wasn’t about to break his own personal vow now, even if a stupid, emotional part of himself longed to. Wanting a distraction from unwelcome thoughts, he suddenly remembered the _other_ irksome soldier called Genesis Rhapsodos. That man usually was practically glued to Angeal’s side at all times unless he had a willing body to desecrate. It had less to do with jealousy and more to do with the fact that the man was brash, obnoxious, and liked to try and egg Sephiroth on every chance that he could. According to Angeal, there was more to Genesis than what appeared to be on the surface, but Sephiroth wasn’t willing to delve any deeper to find out if that was true or not. Although he never gave Genesis the satisfaction of reacting to his taunts, Sephiroth didn’t want to give him the notion that he was actually interested in him in any way, be it positive or negative. In all honesty, he wasn’t interested in Genesis in any way and felt the man was more akin to an annoying gnat flying around than the mighty lion the red-headed soldier believed himself to be. The less Sephiroth saw of him, the better.

Glancing around suspiciously for Angeal’s fellow soldier and childhood friend, the silver-haired man thinly questioned, “Did you bring _him_ along this time?”

“No, this time he chose to stay in _Lord Town_ for his leave,” Angeal sighed wistfully as if he missed his friend. _Lord Town_ was another name for the Red-Light District part of the capital. It was dubbed that name by Angeal because nobles tended to frequent it, throwing their money around and acting like they owned the place. He knew the soldier particularly resented that place because his mother had worked there as a whore for many years before dying of a disease around the time Angeal had barely turned fourteen. It was painful for Angeal and it made Sephiroth wonder what type of friend would purposely flaunt going there while knowing full well what it meant to the other soldier. 

Despite the redhead’s tendency for debauchery, Sephiroth still found it odd Genesis had opted for _Lord Town_ instead since he never missed the opportunity to visit his home town for a few days. A lot of the people here worshipped and doted on Genesis, especially the young, influential adolescent girls and boys that were ripe for the plucking. It made Sephiroth sick to see the teenagers fawning after an older man, especially one that enjoyed taking advantage of them since they were too young and naïve to know any better. It always reminded him of what Tseng had done to him by taking advantage of his youth and tossing him away once he was used up. He couldn’t pinpoint just what it was exactly, but something about Genesis seemed worse than his ex-lover. There was something in Sephiroth’s instincts loudly warning him not to ever trust that scumbag soldier of a man. Because of this, he never let his guard down around Genesis and watched him more closely than he normally would anyone else.

“You should consider joining the King’s Legion,” started Angeal as he regarded the younger man seriously. “I believe you would do well, and with _my_ recommendation, you would rise up quickly in the ranks, especially considering you’re technically already trained in combat. With your strength, intelligence, and judgement, I can easily see you becoming a Commander quickly. Admittedly, Genesis became one through his wealth and class, but you…I know you actually have what it takes, by merit alone. I see you going places, Sephiroth. You have what it takes to be a great General, I know it. At least consider it.”

Sephiroth said nothing, just nodded slowly as he mulled over Angeal’s offer. Truthfully, the thought to join the military had crossed his mind a time or two the past couple of years. He was a young man now and was old enough to leave his father’s house and venture out into the world on his own. He wasn’t some puberty-stricken youth relying on his father anymore for food and shelter. And yet, the more he thought about leaving his home, the more it unsettled him. A part of him did want to actually leave, to be his own man; however, when he pictured Vincent, visualized leaving him behind, he felt overwhelmingly hollow inside, like a soulless shell of a man. Until Sephiroth had come along, that man had been utterly alone and probably had been alone for most, if not all, of his life. He personally knew what that felt like, to be alone and to feel alone even when people were in the room with him. What would his father do if he just up and left him? He would probably survive his absence, but…just thinking about Vincent dirty and alone in that quiet house, was tragically sad as if the man were preparing to die alone and forgotten in that silent place. It was more than he could bear to think about, really.

There was also the fact that Sephiroth wasn’t exactly human, either. Not completely, that was. The more people he surrounded himself with, the more chance he risked exposing what he truly was to them. Despite this concern, that wasn’t the worst fear he harbored inside of his being. What if he accidentally killed someone who didn’t know any better? He could become injured in the field and then a healer or fellow soldier might remove Sephiroth’s clothes, especially his gloves, and… _well_. Ever since he’d accidentally killed an animal, he’d gone through painstaking lengths to avoid killing anything or anyone else. The less he exposed himself, the less chance an opportunity would present itself in the future. People noticed it, especially people like his friends and those he’d taken as lovers. He’d lied to them saying he suffered from a skin condition that afflicted his hands. Whether they believed it or not, they all had dropped the subject, most likely out of respect or due to knowing how stubborn he was.

Although Tseng had never asked him to remove his gloves or tried to force Sephiroth to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, he had still taken advantage of his _youth_. At the time, Sephiroth had been famished for attention and any kind of affection that he could get, that he hadn’t realized he wasn’t ready for _that_ kind of attention. Being free from his prison, he had been ravenous to explore the world and to feel things he had been deprived of, that he hadn’t thought to slow down at all. And like any teenager, he had been hormonal and given into his basic impulses. As a result, he had ended up getting hurt over it in the end, but he had learned from it just like he had learned from unintentionally killing that animal. He was wiser now on both counts.

Sephiroth then wondered if his father had experienced something similar in his younger years. Had he struggled so much during his youth, too? Had someone else hurt him like Tseng had hurt Sephiroth? Or worse, had Vincent accidentally killed someone he hadn’t meant to?  It was hard to know, but Sephiroth suspected his father’s childhood hadn’t been pleasant, either. Now that he thought about it, it made a lot of sense to him that Vincent was such a recluse. Whether or not he was actually an introverted person was irrelevant because there really wasn’t much of a choice in the matter considering that he was literally living Death. It then occurred to him that with the way things were, Sephiroth would most likely have to follow in his father’s footsteps. Whether this meant merely hiding away from people, or doing what his father did at night, he didn’t know. Truthfully, he didn’t want to know. It was why he had not bothered to ask if he even had a choice in the matter, being what he was and all.

In spite of knowing that this was the wisest choice for himself, Sephiroth still wasn’t quite ready to lurk in the shadows unseen just yet. Just a little longer, he promised himself, and then he would give everything up to keep people safer from his ability to take their lives. Although he had pretty much already come to a decision on the matter, he still regarded the seasoned soldier and promised, “I will think on it.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Angeal with a smile as he reached over again to touch Sephiroth. He frowned when the younger man turned his head and stepped away, vibrant green eyes averted. “What’s the matter? You are acting strange. Are you angry with me?”

Voice tight, Sephiroth simply ground out, “We shouldn’t.”

“Tell me _why_ ,” started Angeal, his voice calm and patient as he watched the other man closely. “Is there someone else? Is that why?”

 _Yes._ Turning his back to Angeal, he squeezed his eyes shut because he didn’t want the other man to see the lie burning within his shamed depths. He didn’t ever want Angeal or anyone else to know the root of his shame, which was the restrained desire he forced himself to keep at bay every day and night. It was still something he denied to himself, or at least, he desperately tried to, whenever flaming, beautiful eyes looked his way. It was something he didn’t understand, something he didn’t ever want to understand. Sephiroth was already an abnormal man, he didn’t need to add _this_ to the list, too. If he suppressed it, kept it hidden and ignored it long enough, then surely...surely it would wane until it was long gone. Or at least, that’s what he kept trying to convince himself of every day even as the fire within strengthened the more he matured. Shaking his head, he lied, “No, of course not.”

“Then what is it?” Inquired the older man as he stepped closer to stand behind the green-eyed man. His hand hovered above his shoulder as if he questioned whether or not it was wise to touch the younger male.

Sephiroth slowly turned around to look at Angeal, his malachite eyes hard and fists balled at his sides. “I made a vow…years ago, to never let _that_ happen again. I will not fall victim again, Angeal. Those days are long over. I’m not a stupid little boy anymore.”

Despite the stern look the younger man was giving him, the soldier’s features softened. He softly asked, “Do you really think I would throw you away? I’ve already told you, _showed_ you, how I felt, how I still feel. A year hasn’t changed what I feel for you. It’s real, Sephiroth. Not everyone is like that man. Don’t let him punish you, Sephiroth. You do deserve to live, to be happy.”

Sephiroth’s lips formed a tight line as he pictured Genesis smirking knowingly at him. In his heart of hearts, he knew that Angeal would always choose his best friend over everyone, even Sephiroth, whom he claimed that he loved above all else. It wasn’t that he wanted to force the soldier to choose between him and Genesis. No, it went much deeper than that. He knew that if he wasn’t the most important person to Angeal, that the same thing would happen despite what the soldier believed. After all, Tseng had ended up choosing someone else over Sephiroth. It stood to reason that Angeal, too, would choose someone else. Someone like Genesis.

Call him selfish, but Sephiroth longed to be the most important thing in the world to another person. He didn’t want to feel second best, to feel like some shameful secret to be hidden away. Like most people, Sephiroth wanted to be happy in this life. A lot of the things that he wanted were the same things others seemed to already have. As much as he loved Angeal, yes, _loved_ , despite his vow not to, he knew that they weren’t right for each other. As long as Genesis remained a priority, and Sephiroth’s walls remained up, there could never be anything more than good sex.

“Let us call it what it really is, Angeal. The only thing it could ever be: a pleasant distraction. It is over now,” drawled Sephiroth coldly although he was cracking on the inside. Body rigid, he began to stiffly walk away towards the closest building until a strong hand seized him by the shoulder and jerked him around, so that the younger man was facing him. Grabbing said hand by the wrist, Sephiroth swiftly shoved Angeal until he had slammed the larger man hard against the wall of a building, temporarily knocking the wind out of him. Before Angeal could recover, Sephiroth had wedged a leg between the older man’s thighs and grabbed him by the face, leather-clad fingers pressing hard in rough, stubbled skin as he kissed his mouth with equally bruising force. The rough, short bristles of facial hair scratched against the smooth skin of his face, instantly reminding him of just who he _wasn’t_ kissing and touching. He was further reminded when he felt those lips break away to smother kisses and bites along his long, strong neck. Large calloused hands clamped onto his hips, pulling him in as close as possible. He could also feel the unmistakable hardness of Angeal’s desire pressing against his leg, causing him to grind his knee harder between his legs, albeit a bit harder than he normally would.

Against the skin where shoulder met neck, Angeal rasped out, “You’re insane sometimes, you know that?”

“Shut up,” Hissed Sephiroth right before he dove back in for another hungry, merciless kiss. Closing his eyes, it was almost impossible to imagine that he was kissing and touching someone else, someone with smooth, hairless pale skin and a tapered, lean body which was the opposite to the larger, hairier body he was pressed against and touching. Despite this, in his mind’s eye, he saw scorching eyes piercing right through him straight to his core, making him feel both overwhelmingly powerful and weak at the same time. The strangest thing about what he was experiencing was that he swore that he could actually _feel_ that intense gaze, too, like it was actually there penetrating his being. It felt as if it were real and not just some taboo fantasy playing in his messed-up mind. But that was just silly. Obviously, he was just imagining something that he wanted, but shouldn’t want.

If only Sephiroth had opened his eyes and looked, he would have realized that not everything was entirely in his head.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Over the years, Vincent had more or less kept his end of the promise. He had stopped going out every single night as if opting to be there more for his lonely son. Sometimes he would stay up during the morning to talk to Sephiroth, although it was more like listening on his part. No matter what it was, be always appeared interested in what his son had to say. It was because of this welcome change in their relationship that Sephiroth eventually confided in him what had happened to make him hole himself up in his room. Even more unexpectedly was Vincent's reaction to his detailed heartbreak. His father had silently taken him by the sides of his pain-stricken face before kissing his forehead while he ensnared him in a tight embrace. The gesture and the embrace had triggered a reaction from Sephiroth, causing him to sob into his father’s chest until it tapered off. Vincent didn’t let him go until he had stopped crying, either. It had felt...so nice, so liberating, to let go like that and be comforted by someone that usually opted to limit touch. He couldn't help clinging to Vincent then, burying his face in his chest with his head tucked under the man's chin, as he basked in his warmth and scent. Gods, it had felt so damn good, but after a while, he had been forced to reluctantly untangle himself from his father's arms due to his unwelcome, awakening arousal. Nonetheless, it was still a pleasant memory he would always cherish, even if it had ended with sinful thoughts.

Besides talking, sometimes they would both just sit in comfortable silence near each other outside or in the study. Sephiroth was the type of person that talked usually only when he had something to say and didn't feel the need to suffocate the silence with meaningless drivel. He sensed that Vincent was grateful for this since the man seemed like the type that enjoyed silence a majority of the time.

There were also times that Vincent would ( _somewhat reluctantly on his part, of course_ ) help him clean up the house. Sometimes it took more nagging on Sephiroth's end since Vincent didn't always think of something as needing their attention right away or at all. Since his first forced introduction to cleaning, he had gotten better at cleaning house and at personal hygiene thanks to his son's vigilant insistence. In spite of this, he would most likely never be on his son's level of obsessive compulsive cleanliness. Sephiroth was fine with that just as long as the older man was actively trying to be clean.

Despite the fact that Vincent still refused to divulge personal matters to him, their relationship was still a relatively good one considering everything. The man was actively trying to be a better father to him than he initially had been in the beginning. Although a part of him still longed to know about his mother, Sephiroth was beginning to believe that maybe it didn’t really matter. Perhaps the truth was just too painful for them both and Vincent was doing his best to spare Sephiroth from it. Whatever the case, he had resigned himself to just stop asking about it altogether since he realized that if his father intended to ever tell him, then he would. If not, then so be it.

Sephiroth was starting to believe that it was true that some truths were better unknown. Sometimes when he caught himself gazing at Vincent, he wished that he didn’t know that this man was his father. If he didn’t know that they shared blood, then this shameful sin he carried within, wouldn’t even matter.

As the saying went, ignorance was bliss.

  
  


~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Later that day, Rufus apprehensively approached Sephiroth as if something was weighing heavily on his mind. The taller man didn’t have to look to know that something was bothering the blond man. Carefully setting the sword down and the tools he had been using to clean it, he looked up at his friend to give him his undivided attention. The shorter man was already sitting across from him on the bench, his hands under the table twisting his nice blue tunic in his hand nervously.

“Something I can help you with?” Sephiroth patiently inquired, one eyebrow arched. He couldn’t help noticing that Rufus had...scrubbed himself clean and was wearing his best clothes as if hoping to impress someone. Even his hair was neatly slicked back and he smelled like he was wearing some kind of expensive perfume on his skin that was just a tad bit overpowering. Just who was he trying to impress?

Rufus glanced around him first before he looked back at the silver-haired-man. Leaning forward, he said, “I...need to tell you something.”

Sephiroth waited several long minutes for Rufus to follow up on that; however, he did nothing but sit there staring back awkwardly at the taller man. Deciding to give the other man a little nudge, Sephiroth gestured one hand towards Rufus and asked, “Tell me what exactly?”

Rufus exhaled deeply before he finally admitted, “I...have feelings for someone. I’ve had them for a long time now, and I...don’t know what to do about it. I know I should tell them, but what if it ruins what we already have? I’m not sure if I should risk it...”

“It won’t because I don’t see you in that way. Something about you just... uncurls my fingers and toes. I cannot really put a finger on just what it is,” dryly jested Sephiroth since he knew exactly who Rufus was referring to.

 The blond man glared at his smirking friend, his overall demeanor both annoyed and unimpressed by the taller man’s depreciating joke. “I’m trying to be serious here, asshole.”

Vivid green eyes left Rufus to focus on the slender, elegant form walking in the town square with an older, dark-haired man at her side. He’d seen the man from time to time. Reeve, if he recalled correctly. He was the city planner and advisor who worked closely with Rufus’ father after evidently moving here after Sephiroth had been liberated by Vincent. Apparently, he was also the local inventor in his spare time and did odd jobs for people when they commissioned him to. For some reason unknown to him, Reeve always seemed to bolt away whenever he realized that Sephiroth had caught sight of him. Shaking such thoughts away, he focused back on Rufus and said, “If you risk nothing, then nothing will happen. Nothing will change, and things will remain the same, for the most part. You stay friends, things are okay, more or less...but as time passes, someone draws his eye and then takes his hand. In the blink of an eye, she will take him away from you and what you had before, will cease to be. You’ll miss your chance and come to regret doing nothing. In the end, you will lose everything.”

As he spoke, Sephiroth saw flashes of the love bites he’d glimpsed on Vincent's neck from years ago. Most would have forgotten those images, or at least dulled in memory after some time had passed, but not for him. He still vividly remembered what they had looked like and how they'd made him feel at the time. Even know, he felt like clenching his fists and hitting something repeatedly until his hands were bleeding and throbbing from pain that unfortunately wouldn’t distract him for long. Long sparring matches with Angeal or hour-long runs did very little to keep his flustered mind off the things he didn’t want to dare think about. However, what did help him focus on other things was if someone needed his help with something, and right now, his friend did, so he shoved away his jealous thoughts long enough to center his attention back on the nervous blond. “It’s better to know where you stand than to live the rest of your life wondering _what if._ ”

“Huh….sure sounds like you know this from personal experience,” commented Rufus as he looked at the taller man suspiciously. His eyes followed where Sephiroth kept glancing at and he noticed his friend was watching Aerith and Reeve conversing.

It was in that moment that Sephiroth realized he had been reflecting himself unintentionally in his own advice. The words he had spoken to his friend were definitely a reflection of what he felt inside. Though he couldn’t dare act on his own words, they still remained true in his mind. Ducking his head, he stared down at his own leather clad hands. Even still, how could he really expect Rufus to follow his advice when Sephiroth didn’t have it in him to act on his own warped desires? The difference being here, was Aerith wasn’t Rufus’ sister or some other blood relative. And yet, his mouth was left with a sour taste in spite of that. He didn’t think of himself as a coward and yet, he still felt like one. It wasn’t so simple for him, wasn’t as simple as a young, eligible man pining for a lovely young woman. From where he stood, he could easily see that both Aerith and Rufus harbored feelings for one another of similar natures. There was minimal risk there and it was what they were supposed to do, to feel. But Sephiroth? He wasn’t supposed to feel _this_ way. He wasn’t supposed to want his own father in **that** way. And yet...he still did. As much as he wanted to deny it, to lie to himself forever, he knew deep down the truth of his pining, tortured heart.

It had taken him a couple of years to realize it, but he did have a specific type when it came to men. It didn’t go unnoticed for long by him that he seemed to prefer older, dark-haired men that were patient and mature in nature. After becoming attracted to the soldier Angeal, he realized that all these men, Tseng and Angeal included, were all cheap substitutes for the one he truly desired. The one that he couldn’t and shouldn’t ever have.

As Sephiroth sat there reflecting on things he’d promised himself never to think about, he couldn’t help wondering if perhaps the military was the better alternative. He would be away from the object of his desire and away from temptation that was getting harder to resist. If he was away, he wouldn’t fuck up and admit to something taboo or do something stupid that he couldn’t ever take back. If Sephiroth wasn’t within arm’s reach of his father, then he would be able to stay away, to resist the call of the siren that would surely devour him.

"Is it... _Tseng_?" Rufus tentatively asked as if dreading the answer, his blond eyebrows furrowed. Ever since his heartbreak, both Aerith and Rufus had tiptoed around the subject. Sephiroth had been grateful for it, in a way, since he didn't need to be constantly reminded of that man. It had taken some time, but over time, he'd thought about the man less and less. Come to think about it, he rarely saw Tseng at all. Perhaps the man was avoiding him out of shame? Strange, though, that Sephiroth couldn't remember the last time he'd glimpsed Tseng in the town even though Sephiroth had made it a point to completely avoid _The Golden Saucer_.

"No, it's not him, Rufus. I am well past that, I assure you. It's..." Sephiroth trailed off, uncertain if he should continue talking about it since he'd been in denial for so long, too long. Perhaps he could talk about it without revealing the who? That would be easier and wouldn't ignite any tensions or unwanted judgements of his person. Perhaps if he discussed it some with another person, he would figure out it wasn’t as pressing as it seemed to be. Perhaps he was mistaking his feelings for something else. Or maybe he was just fucked. Whatever the case, it might be good to at least say it aloud to someone, even if it wasn’t the entire truth. He sighed, "It's someone I can't ever have. Someone that would never feel that way towards me."

Rufus crossed his arms and leaned forward as if indulging in a dark secret that only he was meant to know. "But how do you know that?"

That was a fair point, Sephiroth thought. He didn’t know for certain, but there had never been any indication on Vincent’s part that his affections were more than platonic. Even if Sephiroth weren’t the man’s son, there was no guarantee that Vincent would be into him or even into men, for the matter. But what about _those_ books? Some of the books he’d found in the attic had images of men sexually pairing together in various ways. That still didn’t prove anything and yet, it still hinted at the possibility that Vincent could very well be interested in both sexes. He knew he was overthinking things, but what he couldn’t believe was that he was starting to seriously consider going for it. Could he really? No…no, there was no way that he could ever cross that line and ruin what decent relationship he already had with Vincent. Wait, _what_? It was then that he began to notice that even in his thoughts, he was starting to refer to Vincent more and more by his name and not by his relation to Sephiroth. It was as if a part of him was already trying to mask over that label to make what he wanted more acceptable in his mind.

“What about Angeal?” Inquired the blond man after his friend had lapsed into a long, uncomfortable silence. The silver-haired man was obviously deep in thought and by the looks of things, he was doing some serious overthinking. “Please tell me it’s not Rhapsodos. Not even you deserve to be groped by that conceited peacock. Even an ass like you deserves better.”

Knocked out of his thoughts by a name he sorely disliked, he barely caught the words leaving his friend’s mouth. Scowling a bit at the implication that he would harbor secret desires for that effeminate bastard of a man, Sephiroth scoffed, “Even someone as daft as you knows better than that, Rufus.”

Rufus smirked. “He’s too flamboyant for you, yeah. I still can’t believe he actually gets women, too. I’m surprised that the ladies aren’t more into Angeal.”

“They do,” said Sephiroth absently. He could recall plenty of nights that they would be at the bar drinking, or in a booth in some tavern and a woman would approach them to preposition Angeal for a good time. What the women really wanted, was usually to trap a high-ranking officer with an unplanned pregnancy, which would theoretically seal them into a more glamorous life. Some just wanted to be able to say they’d had sex with one of the legendary commanders of the King’s Legion. Angeal had always seen right through their agendas, fortunately. He would politely decline their offers before leading Sephiroth someplace more private away from prying eyes. The younger man couldn’t really complain about those women, though, since it usually triggered Angeal into a sudden impulse to experience the joys of the flesh. The green-eyed man knew it wasn’t the women’s attentions that aroused the soldier, but the fact that Sephiroth was with Angeal for the man himself and not for his decorated fame. After all, when they’d first met, the younger man hadn’t the slightest clue just who Commander Angeal Hewley was.

“Oh, that reminds me. What of Angeal? You two seem to get along rather nicely...”

“I ended it today,” tightly said Sephiroth as he slipped his hands under the bench to dig his fingers into his thighs. His malachite colored eyes unfocused as he briefly recalled just how he’d ripped himself away from the other panting, aroused man before they could fornicate out in the open against that tree. Although they hadn’t directly been in the public eye, anyone could have walked by and seen them. That wasn’t the reason why he had pulled away, though. The more he had touched Angeal, felt his hands on his body and his mouth on his neck, the more wrong it had felt to him. It felt wrong because it felt like he was using the man as a substitute and that wasn’t the kind of person Sephiroth wanted to be. He loved Angeal and in his eyes, the honorable, good-hearted man deserved someone that wouldn’t see him as a substitute for who they truly wanted. Angeal deserved someone that wouldn’t lie to him and whisper another name within his own mind whenever they touched.

But Gods, he had tried, he had tried so hard to make it work. Sephiroth had wanted Angeal to be the one, despite his promise not to get his heart taken by another man. Even if it had not been actual love, he had desperately wanted Angeal to be the one in his thoughts during the day and in his dreams at night. But he wasn’t, and Sephiroth found it increasingly difficult to deny just who it was that owned that particular place.

Blue eyes widening in surprise, the blond man asked, “What, why?”

_Because he’s not Vincent._

The words were lodged in his throat, and yet, he could not dare speak them aloud. Just because he wasn’t completely shrouding himself in denial didn’t mean he was ready to admit them out loud, if ever. He may have ended his relationship with Angeal, but that didn’t mean he was about to try and initiate a sexual one with Vincent. Just finally, actually acknowledging it to himself was hard enough to deal with as it were. Rising up, Sephiroth sheathed his sword in its scabbard and quickly gathered his sword-cleaning kit back into its box. “I have to go. Good luck with Aerith. Only the gods know why she loves you.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When Sephiroth arrived home in the late afternoon, he didn’t expect Vincent to be awake just yet. Even if the man opted to stay in the house at night, he still chose to sleep sometime during the day as if it were impossible for him to do so at night. Lingering at his father’s bedroom door, he felt conflicted since he didn’t know if the older man was still sleeping or not. Should he knock and risk waking him up? He raised and dropped his arm a few times as he wrestled with his dilemma. On one hand, he knew it could wait a bit, but on the other hand, Vincent had given him permission to wake him for whatever reason, if Sephiroth needed him, whether it was of the utmost importance or not.

Bracing himself, he knocked twice on the door and waited. Within moments, the door creaked open to reveal a sight that he wasn’t quite ready to be greeted by. Standing clad in only a crimson towel hastily wrapped around his narrow hips, was Vincent, with rivulets of water still rolling down his pale, leanly muscled body. Sephiroth watched enraptured as beads of water tantalizingly slid down over the smooth white skin of that sleek, yet strong body. He felt envious of them then, even if their contact with the older man’s body would be brief. It wasn’t difficult to imagine sliding his hands, without his gloves on, over each and every plane and crevice—

“—Sephiroth?” Interrupted Vincent’s quiet, deep voice. It effectively knocked the younger man out of his ogling, which he hadn’t been aware he’d been doing in the first place despite his impure thoughts. Shocked green eyes snapped up to look at the flushed face of his normally deathly pale father, which was framed by soaking wet black hair that stuck to the skin of his neck, chest, and back. He couldn’t yet remember a time he’d ever seen the man look quite like this, like he’d _just_ been…

Averting his eyes, he quietly apologized, “I...I can come back. I’m sorry.” And as he turned to leave, he felt his arm seized by a strong, gloved hand that kept him in place. He did not bother to fight it, just stood in place since a part of him actually did want to stay, even if it was severely torturous for him to do so.

Face now completely pale again, burning crimson eyes bore intense holes into Sephiroth’s being as he patiently waited for the younger man to speak. Whether he noticed Sephiroth’s earlier leering or his struggle to control himself in Vincent’s presence, the older man didn’t show it.

When his gaze had been averted, Sephiroth had noticed the older man's right hand and arm was completely bare. This was the first time he'd witnessed the naked skin of his father’s arm since he'd come to know him. The older man had seemed to religiously practice always keeping his gloves on, until now. This meant that Sephiroth had interrupted somethingprivate, obviously. Before he could continue that particular train of thought, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Stepping closer, his left hand released Sephiroth's arm in favor of cupping the side of his face to make him look directly at him. Since Sephiroth was only an inch taller, it made looking into his father's eyes all that much easier without having to look up or down like he had to do with most others. Although there was a deadly edge to it, his voice was disturbingly calm as he lowly inquired, “Did someone hurt you, Sephiroth?”

“I left him. It’s over,” confessed Sephiroth, unable to look away from those deep pools of blood red that seemed to shrink into the blackness of the other man’s pupils. Being this close to him, he could smell the older man’s unique, masculine scent that seemed to be paired with rose oil. He did his best to ignore it even though it still made his body shudder. Gods, he was so fucked. If he didn’t get away soon, he felt he might do something incredibly stupid.

The younger man hadn’t needed to specify just who he’d broken up with since he didn’t keep much of his life secret from the raven-haired man. Vincent might not speak much or reveal too much about himself, but Sephiroth still couldn’t help confiding in him about the big things. It made him feel closer to him, and in some ways, the older man’s passive silence was oddly comforting. There was no judgement in it even when Sephiroth had obviously screwed something up.

“I see,” quietly murmured Vincent, his face blank as always though Sephiroth swore he had witnessed a glimmer of _something_. It had happened too fast for him to truly gauge it. But it had been there.

Glancing at Vincent’s uncovered arm, Sephiroth felt the sudden compulsion to reach for it, to bring it up to his face, and to touch it with his own bare hand. Although he resisted the impulse, he still couldn’t help thinking about doing it. Since Sephiroth could touch any part of himself, it reasoned that so could Vincent, which explained his naked state and bare dominant arm. He’d wondered at times if they could touch each other without inflicting death on the other. Was it even remotely possible? Considering Vincent had always kept gloves on around him, it was likely that he feared killing his own son. So maybe they couldn’t touch each other’s bare skin, then. Perhaps that was just how things worked. But…just maybe, it wasn’t true. Maybe it was just an idea falsely implanted into Vincent’s head by another or just a theory he’d come to believe on his own since he literally was walking, living Death. Now that he thought about it, the older man obviously didn’t know everything there was to know. He hadn’t even known about proper hygiene and house chores. Sephiroth knew very little of Vincent’s life growing up, after all. He didn’t know who had brought up this man, who had taught him about the ways of their kind. It was possible that whoever raised him, _if_ there had been anyone at all to do so, could have been mistaken with the facts. This meant, of course, that there was a possibility they could touch without killing one another.

Sephiroth was far from suicidal despite the unpleasant memories of his past and the difficulties of being what he was. Just like anyone else, he wanted to live and experience life fully. And yet, to not know whether or not he could touch Vincent’s face or his hand, dogged him just as badly as his desires for said man. He should just walk away from this temptation to touch, from the overall temptation that was Vincent. But he wouldn’t, and he couldn’t. If he couldn’t come to know Vincent in the way that he desired most, then at least he could come to know whether or not he could even touch him. In his mind, whether it was truly rational or not, he believed that it was well worth the risk.

“ _Touch_ me,” demanded the silver-haired man, his beautiful face both grim and determined. He had already decided what he was going to do, and nothing would deter him from it, even if it killed him in the process.

“What? What are you-” Started Vincent in bewilderment before a strong, gloved hand seized him by the bare wrist of his right arm. Shock melted away quickly for comprehension to dawn on his normally stoic face, quickly followed by intense fear and disbelief. Crimson eyes wide with panic, he tried to rip his arm away, but the other man’s grip was too strong and determined. Sephiroth wasn’t a boy anymore, he was a man, and he was a strong one at that even if he was a half-breed. His terror, although still present, was then melted into the despair that twisted Vincent’s normally blank features. He immediately beseeched in a wounded voice, “Sephiroth, **don’t** …don’t do this… _please_ …”

Before Vincent could think to ball up his hand in an effort to resist, Sephiroth had already yanked his arm up by his wrist and pressed the other man's clean, slightly damp hand against the side of his face. Not knowing just what to expect, he braced himself for anything, be it for pain or for death. Instead of either event occuring, Sephiroth received the gentle sensation of a cool hand touching his face. The hand against his skin was frozen and tense but seemed to warm up and relax once the owner of it realized his son was not dead. Though he didn't release his hold on the older man's wrist, Sephiroth lessened the grip so that it was no longer bruising. If Vincent wanted to free his hand now, then he would allow him to.

"How...can this be?" Breathed Vincent in a hoarse voice pent up with wavering emotion, his eyes shiny from unshed tears while his hand slowly curled its fingers to cup the younger man’s face. Clearly, he was also affected by the simple touch, but more so by the fact that he could actually _touch_ someone else without the barrier of leather. He then gently slipped his hand away from his son's face to quickly remove the other glove. Hands shaking a bit, he seemed hesitant as if still fearing the worst. Seeing Sephiroth nod at him in encouragement was what made up his mind to reach up and gently frame the sides of his son's lovely face with each trembling hand. Stepping closer, nearly touching body to body, Vincent rested his forehead against Sephiroth's forehead as his eyes slid shut. "I never knew this was possible. I was...told otherwise..."

Slipping his own gloves off almost absently, since he was distracted by the show of obvious emotion, Sephiroth was stunned by what he was witnessing. All these years, he hadn’t seen Vincent display that much emotion, besides that time he’d pissed him off, of course, so...seeing it now, raw and unbridled, was almost too much for him to bear. Despite knowing that his touch wouldn’t kill him, it still took a good bit of mental fortitude to push himself to raise his hands up to the older man’s face. Hands somewhat trembling, he slid long, strong fingers against the white skin of his father’s face. The smooth, hairless skin felt like warm satin beneath his fingertips. It was such a sharp contrast to the face he had been used to feeling against his body. Quickly forcing thoughts of his ex-lover aside, he instead focused on making his hands mimic what Vincent was doing to him. Closing his eyes, he just savored the moment for as long as he possibly could. This was something he had taken a while to reluctantly come to terms with, to know he would never be able to touch another person again. And the fact that the person he could touch, was the most untouchable person he’d ever met, was staggering to him. Sephiroth still couldn’t believe this was happening, that this was real. He hoped that if this was nothing but a dream, that he would never wake from it.

It wasn’t the wisest idea to stand this close and to be touching the nearly naked man he so unwillingly desired. He should take a step back, give them more room, but Sephiroth’s legs felt like they were nailed to the floor. Being this close, breathing in that masculine, clean scent, was beginning to lurch Sephiroth’s senses into overdrive. He could already feel his traitorous body reacting to this intimate moment, one that should have _only_ been an innocent event between father and son. The impulse to touch more, to trail his fingers over those lips and down lower over a smooth chest and quivering abdominals, made itself known. He couldn’t help imagining what the older man looked like, and felt like, without that hinder some towel acting as a barrier. To the younger man, a simple touch to Vincent’s face didn’t feel like enough; he hungered for more and that very fact distressedhim.

If he didn’t reel himself back in, then he was afraid he would ruin everything he’d worked so hard to gain from his father. Unwilling to part just yet from this unexpected warmth, he pulled his head back a bit to get a better look at Vincent, without breaking the older man’s gentle hold from his face. Wanting desperately to distract himself from his unwelcome thoughts and impulses, he asked, “Are you...going out tonight?”

“I’m staying with you tonight. We can do whatever you like,” softly said Vincent. Though his eyes were no longer shining with moisture, there was a barely there smile tugging gingerly on his pale lips. For the first time Sephiroth could ever recall, the older man actually appeared to be something relatively close to looking happy. He’d seemed content in the past, but this…this was beyond simple contentment. It was a beautiful sight that thankfully distracted him from the obscene images stowing away in his head. It was the things he wanted to do, but didn’t want, at the same time. To be so conflicted with himself, to feel like he was fighting to not split apart at the seams, was rather exhausting on his body and mind. It was only early afternoon and already he was fighting hard to stay awake where he stood.

Weary to the bone and feeling like gravity was slowly dragging him down, Sephiroth admitted, “I’m tired. I need to sleep for a bit…”

“Sleep as long as you like. I’m not going anywhere,” said Vincent as his hands slipped away from the younger male’s face.

Reluctantly parting from the older man, Sephiroth slowly made his way to his own bedroom, feeling those intense eyes follow him until he was safely hidden behind his bedroom door. After crashing into his own bed face first, his last, fuzzy thoughts were of hope, of hoping that this wouldn’t be the only and last time Vincent ever touched him again.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~


End file.
